Livin On The Edge
by purplepagoda
Summary: The dead lieutenant they find turns out to be a rapist. Suspects seem to be popping up from everywhere. What happens when the suspect topping their list is one of their own? Did she kill the lieutenant? Will they be able to prove this agent's innocence?
1. Recognition

"Grab your gear, we've got a dead navy Lieutenant."

They all grab their gear, and make their way to the elevator. It is business as usual. Tony, and Ziva fight over who gets to drive. Gibbs steps in, and takes the keys. Ziva jumps in the front seat, and makes Tony ride in the back with Tim. They reach their destination half an hour later with two dozen insults swapped between them, and three head slaps. They grab their gear, and follow Gibbs into the crime scene.

In the living room the dead lieutenant lies face down, next to the couch. There is a puddle of blood surrounding him. They go about documenting the crime scene. Ducky and Palmer join them minutes later. Tim snaps pictures of the body. He and three other NCIS agents watch Ducky.

"Ok Mister Palmer, let's turn him over."

Jimmy helps Ducky turn the body over. They all look at him. Tim uses the mobile AFIS to confirm his identity. Tony notices something register with Ziva. He watches her carefully. He has difficulty deciphering the look in her eyes.

She stares at the body, fighting the urge to look away. She swallows hard. She notes the gun shot wounds. One to the head, between the eyes, and two the chest. She stares at the face of the dead Lieutenant. Without a word she leaves the room.

Gibbs watches her leave the house.

"Ziva, where are you going?" He calls out.

She doesn't answer him, she just keeps walking.

He looks at DiNozzo, "Go after her," he demands.

Tony nods, and follows his partner out the door. He finds her at the end of the sidewalk, leaning up against the car. He walks down the sidewalk, only stopping when he reaches her. She looks at him, but says nothing.

"I don't know what is going on with you, but you need to get back in there," he tells her gruffly.

"I can't," she avoids his eyes. She stares at the crack in the sidewalk.

"Why not? Did you know him?"

Her head snaps up. She locks eyes with him. He notices the pained look in her eyes.

"You should tell me," he insists.

"I saw him in a bar once," she admits.

"That look," he points to her face, "tells me something else."

"Let it go, please?"

"Ziva what is going on?"

"Tony please leave it alone," she begs.

He stares into her big brown eyes. She blinks away the tears. He can tell that something about the dead lieutenant has her shaken. He knows that there is more. But the look in her eyes begs him not to dig any deeper. Suddenly a different facial expression flickers onto her face. She takes a deep breath. Her hands move towards him.

"Are you ok?"

"Move," she replies.

He steps out of the way. She runs past him, towards a garbage bin sitting in the driveway next to them. She flips open the lid. He watches her as her body pitches forward, and her head leans into the can. She violently heaves into the trash bin. After it is over she closes the lid on the trash can, and moves back towards the car. She stops when she reaches Tony.

"Can I have your water, please?" she asks nicely.

He opens the car door, and ducks into the back seat. He pulls his bottle of water out of the cup holder in the back seat. He hands it to her. She swishes it around her mouth, and spits. He studies her as she gulps half of it down. She puts the lid back on, and returns it to him. He places it in her cup holder, and slams the door shut. He points past the car.

"What?"

"Over there," he motions.

She follows him behind the shrubs that block the view of the street, from the crime scene.

"Can you tell me what that was about? You have the strongest stomach, of anyone I know. You have never gotten sick at a crime scene. What gives?"

"It is not what you think."

"Start talking!" he demands.

"It's not the crime scene."

"You're just sick? If you're sick you should go home."

"I am fine," she argues.

"You're fine? Why do you insist on lying? I can tell that you aren't fine."

"What do you want me to say? I feel like crap, I don't want to be here right now?"

"If that's the truth."

"It is, but it does not matter. I have to be here."

"You never get sick. Your immune system is stronger than the Incredible Hulk."

"I had seafood last night, I guess it wasn't any good."

"You learned nothing from my clam chowder incident?"

"I guess not."

"Go home."

"I will not."

"Ziver?" Gibbs looks at the two of them from ten paces away.

"Boss she's sick."

"Sick? Ziva is sick? Tony you're making things up. Ziva does not get sick," Gibbs points out.

"She just threw up. She chose not to learn from my mistakes, and eat bad seafood last night."

"Ziva you look like Hell," Gibbs admits. He notices the green hue to her. She looks pale, and she has dark circles under her eyes, "Go home. Ride back to the Navy yard with Ducky."

"I am fine," she argues.

"You sure about that?" Gibbs questions.

She swallows hard. She tries to maintain composure. Gibbs eyes her. She tries to fight it. Her hand clasps over her mouth. She lurches forward, and Tony stands in her way. She upchucks all over him.

From ten feet away Gibbs smiles, and laughs.

"Ziva go home. Tony you can ride back with Ducky too. Get a shower."

"Yes boss," Tony nods.

Ziva heads towards the truck. Tony follows her like a sad puppy dog.

Hours later Tony arrives on Ziva's doorstep. She opens the door for him. He stands in her hallway, holding a brown paper bag.

"What are you doing here?"

"Brought you some supplies. Sprite, Ginger ale, Gatorade. Are you hungry?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"Good I didn't bring any food. Are you feeling any better?"

"Yes," she nods.

"So are you going to let me in, or not?"

She steps back, and allows him to enter the apartment. She closes the door after he steps in. He places the bag on her counter.

"Does Gibbs know that you're here?"

"He asked me to come check on you, make sure that you're still alive."

"I feel much better."

"There is something that you're not telling me, isn't there?"

"There are a lot of things that I don't tell you."

"I should get back. Let me know if you need anything."

"Ok," she nods in agreement.

"I'll see you in the morning?"

"Yes," she confirms.


	2. Monster Among Men

Tony stops at Abby's lab on his way back from Ziva's.

"How is she?"

"She looks miserable. She was wearing her sweats, but she said she was feeling better."

"You believe her?"

"No. Do you have anything that might help solve our case?"

"Other than what I already told you?"

"Yes."

"I think you should talk to his co-workers."

"You have a hunch?"

"I think that he was probably a dirt bag."

"Abby..." he scolds.

"I matched his DNA to another open case."

"An NCIS case?"

"No. It's an open rape case. His DNA matches DNA collected for a rape kit, about two months ago."

"Does it say where?"

"The kit was done at George Washington University Hospital."

"The victim?"

"Elizabeth Jordan. She left before the police could take her statement."

"So it's a dead end?"

"I have the name of the nurse he preformed the exam."

"I'm waiting."

"Lisa Jones."

"Thanks Abby."

In the elevator he flips open his phone. He dials the number to the hospital. He confirms that Lisa is working. He heads to the hospital.

He approaches the nurses station. A receptionist greets him.

"Can I help you?"

"I am looking for Lisa Jones."

"And you are?"

"NCIS."

The receptionist points to a nurse dressed in pink scrubs, standing outside a patient's room, writing on their chart. "That's her."

Tony approaches the nurse.

"Can I speak with you for a moment? My name is Tony DiNozzo, I'm with NCIS."

Gibbs sits in the conference room with Lieutenant Patterson's co-worker.

"I need you to tell me about your Lieutenant Patterson."

"What do you want to know?"

"Who might have the motive to kill him?"

"I can think of at least ten people, off the top of my head."

"He had a lot of enemies?"

"Jason was a pig."

"Meaning?"

"I hated working with him. I didn't want to be associated with him."

"Why not?"

"I didn't want women to think that I was like him."

"Why not Lieutenant Graham?"

"Three woman filed sexual harassment complaints against him in the last six months. One of the women that he was deployed to Iraq with claimed that he raped her."

"Do you believe her?"

"She has no reason to lie. It has only caused her trouble. Some of the other guys tried to convince her to keep her mouth shut, but..."

"But?"

"Three other women came forward. There was even a witness to one incident. Now the group of men that were in Iraq with Natalie, they are out for blood. They are loyal to each other. They depend on each other, and if you mess with one of theirs, even if you are one of them... they don't like it. They don't forget it."

"No one else has mentioned this."

"That's because the Navy is trying to cover it up. Lieutenant Patterson spent some time as a recruiter. He recruited a lot of women. Natalie, was one of his recruits. It makes the Navy look bad. I've heard stories about him, at bars, from other guys. You get some booze in to him, and there is no controlling him. I heard that recently he was at a bar, and he was dancing with this girl. He grabbed her ass, and she drop kicked him. She grabbed her stuff, and left. He followed her out, before his buddies could stop him."

"Why hasn't anyone done anything about it?"

"He's a bad seed, they asked him not to re-up."

"That's it?"

"Obviously someone thought that it wasn't enough. I need names," Gibbs slides a pad of paper, and a pen across the table to Lieutenant Graham, "Start writing."

"Natalie didn't do this. She's not a killer."

"Someone killed him. Someone, who knew what they were doing."

"Did he suffer?"

"The first shot, was to the left lung. Minutes later the killer delivered the shot to the heart, but that didn't kill him. The bullet only nicked the bottom of the heart, causing massive bleeding. And finally, some time later the third shot, to the head."

"You think that the killer was inexperienced? The first two were off?"

"No. I think whoever did this, wanted him to suffer. The third shot, the kill shot, was delivered between the eyes. Whoever killed Lieutenant Patterson meant for each shot to end up where it did."

"So you're looking for a skilled marksman?"

"Any one in particular come to mind?"

"Allison Trent. She was medically discharged after she came home. PTSD, according to the Navy."

"The truth?"

"She had PTSD, but not from going to war. It was from what Lieutenant Patterson did to her. She was one of the toughest I have seen. She fought him. She could take him, but he hit her head against a concrete floor, so hard, that he fractured her skull. They were afraid that the head injury would affect her decision making, due to it's location. I didn't kill Jason, but I am glad he's dead. Whoever killed him deserves a medal."

"You didn't do it?"

"I can't say that I've never thought about it. He was a bastard, but I have a wife, and a kid. I can't go to prison for the rest of my life, they need me. That is too much to lose. He wasn't worth it."

"Keep writing," Gibbs insists.

The lieutenant nods, and continues working on his list.


	3. Revelation

She leads him into a small break room. She takes a seat. He leans against the wall.

"Were you working on the night of November 26th? It was a Friday. The day after Thanksgiving."

"They floated me to the E.R."

"Do you remember your patients from that night?"

"I can't discuss them. It's a HIPPA violation."

"But you do remember them?"

"I only had two patients that night. Some patients are more memorable than others."

"Tell me about Elizabeth Jordan. You did a rape kit on her?"

"What does this have to do with the Navy?"

"The man that raped her, he was found dead in his living room, this morning. He was a Navy Lieutenant. We need to track her down."

"That's not going to be easy. She left before the police came to take her statement."

"I need to get in contact with her, check her alibi."

"The address she gave us, was for the building next door. The phone number she gave us is for a pay phone, in the lobby. I'm not even sure that Elizabeth Jordan was her real name."

"Tell me about her."

"What do you want me to tell you? You should look at her rape kit."

"I will. Is there anything that can help me identify her?"

"I took the photos myself. There were none of her face. He didn't do anything to her face. All of the injuries that he inflicted on her could be covered by clothes."

"She sustained a lot of injuries?"

"Yes. A lot of defensive wounds too. She had a lot of his DNA under her fingernails."

"She fought back?"

"Kicked, punched, clawed, she even bit him."

"Where?"

"She said she bit his shoulder, that he had her pinned down, and that was all that she could do."

"Did he restrain her?"

"She had bruises starting to form from some sort of restraint."

"Did she tell you what they were?"

"I have done a lot of rape kits."

"Why you?"

"I am a certified Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner."

"I didn't know there was such a thing."

"There is. It wasn't hand cuffs. My best guess would be zip ties."

"Why don't you think her name was really Elizabeth Jordan?"

"The name didn't fit."

"She didn't look like an Elizabeth?"

"No."

"Is there anything you can tell me to help find her?"

"Something spooked her. She left before the police showed up."

"Do you think that she was a criminal?"

"No. A criminal would have waited until I returned with emergency contraception. She didn't."

"Can you describe her to me?"

"She was mid to late twenties. She was about five seven."

"Did she have any tattoos, or distinguishing characteristics?"

"An accent. It wasn't too noticeable, but it was there. I remember her hair. She had a ton of hair. I remember because he hit the back of her head with something. Her hair had blood matted in it."

"Ok, tell me about her hair."

"Dark, long, thick, it was wavy."

"What else?"

"I remember her eyes."

"You saw fear?"

"I saw nothing. She had dark brown eyes, and she looked at me, and it was if she had completely blocked out all of her emotions."

"Tattoos?"

"One. I don't know what it was. It was symbols, that I am not familiar with. It was a small tattoo."

"Where?"

"The inside of her hip."

"Thanks you have been a big help."

"Wait, there's something else."

He spins around, "What's that?"

"She was wearing a necklace."

"Anything specific?"

"A star."

"A star? What kind of a star?"

"The Star Of David."

He tucks his notepad in his pocket. He pulls out his phone. He flips through pictures.

"Can I show you a picture?"

"You have an idea who it is?"

"I'm not sure, but this woman may be involved."

"She's someone who has come up in your investigation?"

"Yes," he nods.

"Ok," she agrees.

He hands her the phone. She stares at the picture on the screen of his phone.

"Yes that's her. So you know who it is?"

"Yep," he nods.

"I'm glad that I could help."

"Thanks Lisa," he smiles.

"No problem."

He leaves the hospital, and jumps in his car. He doesn't head back to the Navy yard. Twenty minutes later he finds himself banging on an apartment door.

"Let me in!" he insists.

She pulls the door open, and looks at him in irritation. "You do not have to tear the door down. I was asleep."

"I need to talk to you, it's really important."

"What do you need to talk to me about?"

"Did you kill Lieutenant Jason Patterson?"

"Why would I kill him? I don't understand why you are asking me that."

"I think that you know why."

"I do? Why would I kill him?"

"I can't help you, if you don't tell me the truth."

"The truth about what?"

* * *

_A/N: I am hoping to get up to ten reviews by the weekend. If I reach my goal, I might be inspired to update other stories._


	4. Alias

"How often do you use an alias?"

"Tony I have no reason to use an alias."

"So you have never used the alias Elizabeth Jordan?"

Her face falls. She stops looking at him. She takes a step back. "Come in," she says softly.

He steps into her apartment, closing the door behind him. He watches her as she walks to the couch. She takes a seat on one end. He sits on the arm of the other. She folds her hands in her lap. She stares at her fingers.

"I can't protect you, if you don't tell me what happened."

"I didn't kill him."

"Have you ever used the alias Elizabeth Jordan?"

"Does it matter?"

"Ziva! Answer me," he demands.

"Yes," she nods shamefully.

"Two months ago?"

"Yes," she nods.

"Tell me what happened."

"I... I don't want to talk about it."

"It is not a request. I need to know everything."

"Why?"

"Because you are going to become a suspect."

She meets his glance, "Do you think that I did it?"

"You could have."

"But I didn't. I may have wanted to, but I did not. I may have wanted him to suffer, I may have wanted him to die, but I did not kill him. I am not a killer, anymore."

"I know."

"So you believe me?"

"I know you didn't do it. If you did it you would have shot him once. You would have chosen a place that would take the most time to bleed out."

"If you know that I didn't do it why do you need to know the rest of it?"

"Do you want to have to tell everyone else? Wouldn't you rather tell me?"

"Fine," she returns her line of sight to her hands.

"Whenever you're ready."

She pushes hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. She looks at the coffee table in front of her.

She begins, "I was at a bar. It had been a long week, and I needed a drink, but one drink turned into two, and at some point I lost count. I was just having some fun. I let some guy buy me a drink. He wanted to dance, and I had nowhere to be, so I agreed."

"Lieutenant Patterson?" he interrupts.

She nods, "We started to dance, and before the first song was over I got the feeling that something was not right. I didn't like the way that he looked at me. It was a look I had seen before. The look of a wild animal, staring at it's prey, right before it attacks. After the song was over I tried to walk away. He grabbed me, and pulled me back towards him. He pushed me up against him. He had both of his hands..." she trails of.

"On your ass," he supplies.

She nods, without making eye contact. "I was not comfortable. I pushed him away, and my instincts took over from there. I kicked him in the chest, and he tumbled onto the ground. I grabbed my stuff, and headed for the door. I knew that I had too much to drink to drive myself home. I tried to get a cab, but it was late, there was no one around. I started walking, my apartment was only two blocks away, it wasn't that far. I soon realized that I was being followed, so I started running. When I got into the apartment, I thought that I had lost him. I closed the door. I stood there a minute, to catch my breathe. I turned around, to lock it, and the knob started turning. I tried to keep it closed. I pushed against the door with all my weight, and got the chain latched. That's when he busted the door open. I was against the door, and so I fell on the floor. When I hit the floor my gun flew in the other direction."

"It happened here?"

"No. I couldn't stay in the same apartment, but my lease doesn't end until September. I got the building manager to agree to let me move into a different apartment. It happened in twelve."

"This is nine. I thought that something was different. Continue, please."

"I started crawling, toward the gun, but he grabbed me by the hair of the head. He pulled me onto my feet. I grabbed my knife, and stabbed in the abdomen. I ran for the gun, but he hit me with something. I don't remember anything, until I woke up on the bed."

"He used zip ties?"

"Yes," she nods, "How..."

"The nurse thought that she recognized the bruises on your wrists as zip ties."

"He told me that if I screamed he would rip my vocal cords out. He used his knee to hold me down while he took off his belt. He moved to...I pulled my knees to my chest, and kicked him, as hard as I could, with both feet. He landed on the floor. I thought that I could get my hands free, but every way I moved my wrists the zip ties dug into my skin. He got back off the floor. He elbowed me in the chest, he knocked the wind out of me. While I was trying to breathe he started to undress me. I dug my fingernails into him."

"I thought that you were bound."

"My hands were in front of me, not behind me. There was no way to bind me to my head board. He had the zip tie so tight that I could barely feel my fingers. I didn't know how I was going to stop him. He leaned forward to whisper in my ear..."

"What did he say?"

"That he knew what he was doing. I bit him in the shoulder. It just made him angrier. It did not deter him. I could not stop him," she admits.

"Ziva, there was nothing that you could do to stop him. You know that, right?"

She looks at him. Her eyes fill with tears, but she doesn't answer. He slides down onto the seat next to her. His fingers rest under her chin. He turns her head towards him. "Look at me," he insists.

She stares at him.

"There was nothing that you could have done."

"It does not change anything. It does not make it any less..." she trails off as the tears begin to fall.

"I know."

"I deserved it."

"You deserved it? Why would you say that? Ziva you did not deserve it, no one does."

"It was karma."

"For what?"

"All of the bad things I've done in my life."

"Is that what you think? Ziva you're wrong."

"You don't understand," she warns.

He approaches her slowly. He opens his arms. "Come here," he motions.

She twists around. She folds her legs up, and faces him. She leans in towards him. She allows him to hug her, and for once she hugs him back. She rests her head on his shoulder. He feels her tears soaking through his layers of clothing.


	5. Suspect

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispers.

She lets go of him. She leans back, and looks at him. "Because if I did you would be a suspect right now."

"I have to ask..."

"I was running. That's where I was. I run at the same time, every morning. I take the same route, every morning. I see the same buildings every morning. I see the same faces everyday."

"But do they see you?"

"I wear a bright orange cap, I think that they probably see me."

"You don't happen to have any of their names, do you?"

"No, but you can feel free to go running with me tomorrow morning, and ask them yourself."

"I don't think that I can keep up with you."

"You will have to try."

"I guess so."

"You should go back to NCIS. Tell Gibbs. He should know."

"It can wait."

"Tony I am fine."

"You are not fine. Stop saying it."

"I keep thinking that if I say it enough, at some point, it might be true."

"Maybe it will be, but not today."

"No, probably not for a long time," she admits.

"Ziva, have you talked to anyone?"

"I am talking to you."

"You haven't told anyone else?"

"No."

"You should," he advises.

"Why?"

"Because I hate that pained look on your face. You can't keep everything inside all the time. One day you are going to explode."

"I cannot talk about it."

"I understand how hard it is."

"You have no idea."

"You're right. I wasn't there, it's never happened to me, but..."

"But what?"

"I can see how much you're hurting."

"I do not like feeling helpless. That is how I felt, that is how I still feel. I..."

"It's going to be ok. You'll get through this. I'm here for you."

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"Why are you using contractions?"

"You told me to," she retorts.

"But you usually don't."

"I am tired," she admits.

His eyes study every detail of her face. Her skin looks paler, than usual. Her eyes are darker than usual. They always looked darker when she was in pain. She has large, dark circles under her eyes. Her lips meet, in a frown.

"When was the last time that you slept?"

"I cannot sleep, anymore. I lay awake all night."

"You shouldn't feel like a prisoner in your own home."

"What do you suggest I do?"

"You could come stay with me. I'll sleep on the couch, and you can take my bed. Maybe a change in environment, would do you some good."

"Maybe."

"You look exhausted."

"Gibbs is probably wondering where you are."

"I think he would understand."

"Tony..."

"Why don't you go get some clean clothes, and your toothbrush? I'll drop you off at my place on my way back."

"I can..."

"Not a suggestion," he points out.

"Ok," she agrees.

She retreats to her room. He sits on her couch, waiting on her. While she searches for clothes to wear his phone rings.

"DiNozzo?"

"Where are you?" Gibbs demands to know.

"I am following up on some leads."

"Did you talk to the nurse at the hospital?"

"Yeah. I'll fill you in when I get back."

"Which is going to be when?"

"As soon as I grab dinner for everyone," he lies.

Gibbs hangs up. Ziva returns to the living room, with her bag. He ushers her to the door. He drops her off at her apartment. He stops to grab something to eat on his way back to NCIS.

Hours later he returns home. He expects to find her sitting on his couch, with her gun drawn, and pointed at him.

"Lucy, I'm home," he calls out in the dark. He takes his bag into the kitchen. He puts it down on the counter. He goes into the living room, and finds that the TV is on. The glowing flat-screen lights up the room. He finds Ziva passed out on his couch.

"Are you asleep?"

She rolls over, and starts snoring. He tiptoes into his room. He heads into the master bath for a shower. When he gets out of the shower her dries off, and pulls on some clothes. He dives into his bed, and closes his eyes. Moments later he hears footsteps. He doesn't bother to open his eyes.

"You don't sleep walk? Do you?"

"Not usually," she answers.

"Are you sleep walking now?"

"No."

"Do you need something? Do you want to sleep in here? I can take the couch."

"Can I sleep in here?"

"Of course," he opens his eyes, and gets out of bed.

"With you," she clarifies.

He sits down on the bed.

"You want to sleep in here, with me?"

"Is that ok?"

"Is is ok, with you?"

"Right now you are the only person that I feel safe with," she reveals in a tiny voice.

"Ok," he agrees.

She slides in bed next to him. He makes sure to stay on his side. He feels her moving towards him.

"I am not afraid of you," she reveals to him.

"I don't want to crowd you."

"I am used to it," she answers.

"Tell me what you need," he lays on his side, staring at her in the dark. She lays on her side, staring back at him. She lifts his arm, and slides under it. His hand lays flat on the mattress, next to her.

"You don't have to be afraid to touch me. I will not break."

He allows his hand to touch her back. "You want me to hold you?" he tries to clear up.

"If that's ok with you," she yawns.

"Anything for you," he replies, sheepishly.


	6. Bad Seafood

He wakes up to the glow of the bathroom light. He looks at the bed, and realizes that she is no longer next to him. He closes his eyes, and listens. He does not hear what he expect to. His eyes pop open, and he stares at the crack in the bathroom door. A light bulb goes off in his head. He pulls the covers back, and stumbles to his feet. He makes his way to the bathroom. He pushes the door open, and finds her sitting in front of the toilet, on a towel. It made sense that she was on a towel, his bathroom floor was always cold. She looks up from the toilet bowl.

"Go back to bed," she tells him.

"It wasn't bad seafood, was it?"

"No," she shakes her head, "Go back to bed."

"What time is it?"

"A little after four," she looks at her watch.

"And it wasn't the body, at the crime scene?"

"Tony just go back to bed."

He leans against the bathroom counter. He watches her in silence. Her breathing is labored. She thrusts her head toward the toilet bowl. Obviously she was prepared for this. Her hair is neatly braided behind her. Her toothbrush sits next to the sink, with toothpaste on it, ready to go. A dixie cup containing mouthwash, sits next to the toothbrush. Next to the cup of mouthwash is a bottle of water.

"Did you really go to Vermont?"

"No," she admits, coming up for air.

"So what did you do for three days?"

"Nothing," she reveals.

"How long have you been sick?"

"Does it matter?"

"I am assuming that it is not a fatal illness. You would tell me if it was, wouldn't you?"

"It is not fatal," she assures him. "Most of the time," she mutters under her breath.

"You obviously do not want anyone to know what is going on."

"Change the subject," she warns.

"Does Ray really exist?"

"He exists," she confirms.

"Are you still..."

"Things ended some time ago," answers the question before it is out of his mouth.

"It's not the stomach flu, you wouldn't have agreed to stay with me, if it was contagious."

"Don't press your luck."

She flushes. He offers her his hand. She vacates her seat on the floor. She makes her way to the counter. He watches her as she goes about her routine. She swishes the mouthwash. She spits. She brushes her teeth, she spits. She swishes the water, she spits. She drinks half of the bottle. She walks past him, and turns the light off. She returns to his bed. He climbs in bed next to her.

"So is it over?" he inquires.

"Until after my run. And then it's once, just for good measure, I guess."

"You don't have an eating disorder," he continues the train of thought.

"I told you, don't press your luck."

"You don't want to talk about it?"

"Not now."

"When?"

"Let me check," she pauses, "Probably the twelfth Tuesday, of never," she quips.

"Is it going to go away?"

"Will it stop? I do believe that it will stop, eventually."

"On it's own, or... by other means?"

"That is still unclear," she answers.

"Because?"

"It was not as easy as I had anticipated it being."

"You have tried to make it stop?"

"That is why I took three days off."

"It didn't work?" he furrows his brow.

"I could not convince myself to do it."

"Why not?"

"I wish that I knew," she admits.

"How long have you known?"

"It does not matter."

"Ziva..."

"I will handle it."

"How? By not talking about it? By waiting, for it to disappear? It isn't going to go anywhere. You can't just wish it away."

"I know, I have tried that."

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"I did not do this to myself," she reminds him.

"But you're in control of this. You decide this."

"I have decided."

"The clock is ticking."

"I am fully aware of that."

"You're scared?"

"Confused."

"Confused? About what?"

"Go back to sleep," she muses.

"Ziva talk to me," he begs.

"This situation, all of it, is hard enough, without talking about it."

"What difference does talking about it, make?"

"It makes it real."

"I think that it is real either way. Even if you don't want to admit the truth to yourself."

"I know the truth, I just don't like it."

"So fix it."

"Fix it? There is not really away to fix it. There is a way to make it go away, but there is not fixing it."

"I know."

"Are you sure? Because I am not convinced."

"Time heals old pain, while it creates new ones."

"You are quoting a Hebrew proverb to me?"

"I don't really know what to say here."

"Just say what is on your mind, like you always do."

"I don't want to say the wrong thing."

"I will not break."

"Two months ago you were raped."

"Yes."

"Why did you leave the hospital?"


	7. Rain On Me

"I saw him. His friend brought him into the emergency room."

"You left without taking emergency contraceptives."

"I know."

"Ziva it's four o'clock in the morning, and you were just in the bathroom, throwing up your guts. I believe they refer to it a morning sickness."

"Yes, I believe they do."

"Do you expect me to believe that you wouldn't tell me, if it was not his?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"No? Ziva you are pregnant."

"Don't you think I know that?"

"I can't really tell. You don't want to confirm that you are. You don't want to talk about it."

"There is nothing to talk about," her nostrils flare.

"Why not?"

"I just want it to go away. I just want it all to go away. I want to pretend that it never happened, but I can't. No matter how hard I try, I can't pretend that it never happened. I thought that I could get over it, put it behind me. I was starting to sleep again, then four weeks ago I woke up, and spent an hour puking. I never imagined that this would happen. After I finished puking that morning I realized that not only was I sick, but I was late. I was late, and there was only one explanation."

"Why haven't you... I mean it's... but I just..." he stammers.

"It is not that easy. If this had happened five years ago, I never would have thought twice, but now..." she trails off.

"You are pregnant."

"I know."

"It belongs to Jason Patterson? The man who raped you?"

"Yes," she confirms, swallowing hard, fighting back tears.

"Why is it so hard, then?"

She looks into his eyes. She tries to come up with the right answer, but the words don't seem to come. She breaks down. Her head rests on his chest as she cries. He pets her head.

"I cannot answer that, because I do not know why. I do not want to have..." she wipes her tears with the side of her hand, as they flood down her cheeks, "I do not wish to have a child now, especially this one, but... when I tried to do it, I couldn't. I do not know why. I do not want to have that monster's baby, but..."

"But?"

"How do I know that it is the right thing to do?"

"Do you feel like you need to punish yourself, for the rest of your life?"

"What?"

"Do you really think that you can look at that child, for the rest of your life, and not hate it? It's your call, but... I think that it would be a mistake, to wait, any longer. You're always going to wonder, either way. But if you choose to end it now, you'll know that you didn't condemn someone to a life full of sorrow."

"And if I don't?"

"Are you seriously thinking about this?"

"I can barely think right now," she admits.

"Why are you thinking about it?"

"I don't want to be a monster."

"You're not."

"I wanted to end it. I tried... but I didn't go through with it."

"It's a pretty compelling reason to kill him."

"Tony I did not kill him. I will not deny that I thought about it. I will not deny that I am glad he's dead. I will not deny that I had the motive, and the means to do it. I did not kill him."

"You are going to have to tell Gibbs all of this, you know that, right?"

"Yes."

"Today."

"I know."

"Do you want me to be there?"

"I do not think that I can face him on my own."

"Ziva..."

"Yes?"

"It isn't wrong. To want your life back, you know that, right?"

"Right now, I am not really sure what I know."

When Ziva arrives at NCIS Gibbs sends her to the interrogation room, to speak to a suspect. Ziva enters the room, and takes a seat across from the suspect.

"Allison do you understand why you are here?"

"NCIS thinks that I killed Jason Patterson."

"Did you?"

"I would have liked to, but I didn't."

"Why should I believe you?"

"He raped me, and I had to spend every day, for four months, with him. When I came back, I was discharged. No one wants to hired a defective soldier. How am I supposed to take care of my daughter?"

"You were discharged nearly a year ago."

"Yes."

"How old is your daughter?" Ziva furrows her brow.

"Amelia is six months old."

Ziva quickly does the math in her head, "You were pregnant, when you came back from Iraq?"

"Yes I was, but I didn't know, until after I got back."

Ziva studies the young woman's face. She runs through the facts in her head. Allison Trent, age twenty three. Married for two years. Excellent marksman. Ziva allows the silence to continue. She simply stares into Allison's eyes.

"When you are in the middle of the desert there are no rape kits. There are no emergency contraceptives. When I got back there was no evidence, left of what had happened, at least that's what I thought."

"Jason Patterson is Amelia's father?"

"My husband is her father, but... that bastard is responsible for her, at least genetically."

"You are sure?"

"I am married. It's not like I was in the desert, serving our country, screwing one of my buddies. When I came home I was four months pregnant."

"That sounds like a motive to kill Jason Patterson."

"It's motive, but I didn't do it. I couldn't stand the thought of having an abortion, what makes you think that I would kill him?"

"Why didn't you?"

"Kill him?"

Ziva shakes her head, "Have the abortion."

"I knew that she belonged to him. I was afraid of who she might become, but I couldn't have an abortion, just because of who her sperm donor was. I thought that I would give her a chance. I never intended on keeping her. The plan was to give her up for adoption."

"Your husband supported that?"

"Yes."

"So what happened?"

"She went home with adoptive parents the day after she was born. By the time I got home, I knew that I had made the wrong decision. I just kept seeing her tiny little face, and I didn't care how she got here. It didn't matter, because the bottom line was that she is my baby," Allison pulls out a picture, she hands it to Ziva, "She's my little girl."

"She's beautiful," Ziva admits. The picture has a chubby baby in it, with a bow in her dark hair. She smiles at the camera with a gummy smile, and big dimples. Her blue eyes stare at Ziva.

"My husband, he is the only father she's ever going to know. He loves her. I love her. I might have wished that Jason would die, but I didn't kill him. Do you really think that I would throw my life away, over him? I have a little girl who needs me, I am not willing to spend the majority of her life in prison. I didn't do it."

"You could have."

"Yes, I could have. I have the skills to kill him. I had the desire, but I didn't do it."

"Where were you yesterday, between five and seven AM?"

"I was at home."

"Your husband can corroborate that?"

"I woke up at five, when his alarm went of. He got in the shower, I went to do laundry. I fed Amelia, and got her up for the day. I folded the laundry, and went downstairs, and made Tyler breakfast. I packed his lunch, and ironed his uniform. He left the house at ten til seven," Allison scribbles down his number on a piece of paper, "This is his cell phone number, if you want to speak to him."


	8. Man To Man

Ziva exits the room. She finds Gibbs waiting in the hallway for her. He leans against the wall.

"DiNozzo told me that you had something you needed to tell me, something about the case."

"Can we talk about it in the conference room?"

"Why can't we talk about it out here?"

"Please," she pleads, softly.

"Ok," he agrees.

He follows her to the conference room. She closes the door. He takes a seat at the head of the table. She slowly makes her way across the room. She takes a seat next to him. She folds her hands on the table top. She looks at him. He stares at her expectantly.

"What is it that you couldn't tell me in the hallway?"

"I would like to explain my behavior yesterday. I know that it was unprofessional, I should have been upfront about the whole thing, with you."

"What are you talking about?"

"I think that I should take myself off this investigation."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because after we finish this conversation, I am going to be a suspect."

"A suspect? Why? What is going on here Ziva?"

She stares at the shiny surface of the heavy wood table. She purses her lips, and takes a deep breath.

"Ziva I don't have all day."

She drums her thumbs against the table. She fidgets, trying to formulate a way to tell him. He notices her unusual behavior.

"How bad?"

"How bad what?" she questions, making eye contact with him, only for a moment.

"How bad is what you are about to tell me?"

"I met the lieutenant in a bar once."

"That's it? Ziva that doesn't constitute you taking yourself off the investigation. Why couldn't you just tell me that, in the hallway?"

"He bought me a drink."

"What is your point? Did you go home with him, or something?"

She freezes. She sits in her chair, perfectly still. She doesn't reply.

"What happened?"

"I didn't go home with him."

"You know more than you're telling me. I can't help you if I don't know the whole story," he warns.

"Did Tony tell you about Elizabeth Jordan?"

"Yes."

"He said that he would bring her in, when he found her?"

"He thought that she used an alias."

"She did."

Jethro stares at Ziva. She stares at the table. Her facial expression is hard to read. He places his hand on hers, he squeezes it, "Tell me how you know," he coaxes.

"I was there."

"At the bar?"

"At the bar, at the hospital."

"You knew her?"

"I am her," she reveals.

"You are her?" He locks eyes with her.

"Yes," she nods, shifting her eyes, avoiding his gaze.

"You should have told me that, yesterday," he scolds.

"I know."

"Your partner knows?"

"Yes, I told him."

"When it happened?"

"No, yesterday," she clarifies.

"Tell me the truth. I'll do what I can to..."

She cuts him off, "I didn't kill him."

"Do you have an alibi?"

"I was running."

"Ziva that is not going to clear you."

"I know that. I did not kill him. I would tell you, if I did. He deserved to die. I would have killed him that night, if I had the chance, but I wouldn't hunt him down and kill him."

"Ziva you know that the..."

"I know the bullets were a match to the gun I use. I didn't do it, though."

"Can I see your gun?"

She nods, and un-holsters her gun. She lays it on the table, and slides it towards him.

"This isn't the same gun that you have always had."

"No."

"What happened to your gun?"

"He took it. I did not realize that it was missing, until I returned from the hospital. He knocked it onto the floor, and I never found it."

"Do you know how bad this looks?"

"Yes, but that there is more."

"More?"

"It will take me from suspect to prime suspect."

"How could this get worse?"

"Because I have a long list of reasons that I would want to kill him. My alibi will be difficult to confirm. My weapon was probably used to kill him. Someone shot him in a fashion that is similar to how I would kill him. It is not exact, but close enough for all of you to doubt me. Whoever did this, knew what they were doing. The only prints on the gun, will be mine. It is my gun, and the evidence will be circumstantial, but people have been convicted on less. There is no real way to prove, or disprove that I was there."

"Ziva I have your word that you didn't do it."

"And you believe me?"

"Unless there is something else I should know."

Her eyes gloss over. She stares at her hands. She doesn't answer. Her glance falls on him. He looks into her eyes, and a light bulb goes off.

"There are triggers in our environment, that make it impossible for us to control some things," he begins.

"Yes," she nods.

"At the crime scene yesterday?"

"Yes," she nods.

"You are not DiNozzo, you learn from other people's mistakes."

"Yes."

"It wasn't bad seafood."

"No."

"What happened?"

"I was fine, until Ducky rolled him over. When I saw his face," she trails off. Her jaw stiffens. Her nostrils flare. She attempts to prevent tears from falling.

"You can tell me," he reassures her.

"All I could see was his face, and I couldn't stop it. I went outside because I knew that I was going to be sick. I did not want to contaminate the crime scene. I could not get the thought out of my head," she swallows hard.

"You ok?"

She nods, "I was so repulsed by what he did. I saw him, and it was like it was that night, all over again, but it wasn't. It is much worse than that night."


	9. Parting Gifts

She stares past her partner, who stands before her, outside their crime scene. All she can think of his the man who raped her. The thoughts play in her head. She listens to them, unable to stop them. This was real. Her rapist was dead in his living room, in a pool of his own blood. A monster, and she was... she tries to focus on her partner as he talks at her. She is unable to focus on what he is saying to her. Her thoughts take over. A rapist, her rapist, and she was pregnant, with his spawn. She motions for Tony to move.

Gibbs watches her. He can see that she is no longer with him.

"Ziva."

She looks up at him. The tears fill her eyes.

"Tell me."

"I am pregnant," she wipes the tears as they fall.

DiNozzo opens the door to the conference room.

"Hey boss I just brought Natalie Culver in."

"What are you telling me for? Interview her."

"Yes sir," he nods.

DiNozzo leaves the room, and heads into the interrogation room. He finds a pretty brunette waiting on him. He takes a seat on the other side of the table.

"How can I help you, agent DiNozzo?"

"I think you know."

"You think that I had something to do with Lieutenant Patterson's murder?"

"So you've heard?"

"Everyone has heard. The bastard deserved it."

"You seem to have very strong feelings towards him."

"Yeah, feelings of loathing," she admits.

"Why?"

"You know why."

"So it's true? He raped you?"

"He has raped a lot of women, most of whom are to afraid to come forward."

"You seem, bitter."

"Bitter, doesn't even begin to cover it. You have no idea what he did to me."

"I know that it is difficult to talk about but..."

"Agent DiNozzo he not only raped me, but he left a parting gift."

"A parting gift?"

"I recently learned that I am HIV positive."

"You think that he gave it to you?"

"He raped me four months ago. I was deployed for a year, before that. I have not been with anyone, but him, in over a year."

"Do you know who gave it to him?"

"I cannot say for sure..."

"But you have heard rumors?"

"Eight months ago he raped Brianna Cooper."

"She is HIV positive?"

"She is, but he didn't know it. She didn't know it. She found out when they preformed her rape kit."

"And who did she get it from?"

"Her husband. It turns out that he is an unfaithful bastard."

"Can you tell me where you were..."

"I was on base yesterday, from 0500 to 1730. There are a thousand people who can vouch for my whereabouts."

"Thank you Miss Culver, you have been a great help."

He returns to the squad room. He finds Ziva sitting at her desk, working on an email.

"Ziva, I need you to come with me."

"I can not work on the investigation," she reminds him.

"Come with me," he grabs her by the hand.

She follows him to the elevator. The doors close, and she breaks her silence. "You are taking me to autopsy? You want me to look at the body?"

"Nope."

"Why are we going to autopsy?"

"Ducky needs a blood sample, from you."

"A blood sample? For what?"

"He wouldn't say," Tony lies.

He enters autopsy, and drags her over to Ducky.

"Ducky I brought Ziva down so you could get a blood sample from her, like you wanted," he smiles.

"Ah, yes," Ducky nods, playing along.

Tony parks Ziva on a stool. Ducky pulls on a pair of gloves, and grabs a vial. Ziva stares at Ducky.

"You afraid of needles?" Tony questions.

"Nope," she replies as she watches the doctor stick the needle into her arm. He quickly collects the sample, and passes it off to Abby. He sticks a band-aid on Ziva, and tosses his gloves in the trash. Tony takes the vial from Ducky.

"I've got to get this to Abby, so we can clear you as a suspect."

He leaves her. Ducky stares at her in confusion.

"Suspect? You are a suspect?"

"Ducky I did not do it."

"Ziva, that is not what I asked."

"Yes," she nods, as she gets off the stool, "I am a suspect."

"Did you have a personal vendetta against the Lieutenant?"

"Sort of," she admits.

Abby swirls around at the sound of Tony's footsteps. She smiles at him as he approaches.

"I come bearing gifts," he holds out the vial for her.

She takes it from him, "How thoughtful, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Run it against the crime scene."

"There was not blood, from the suspect."

"Compare it to the victim's blood."

"What am I comparing?"

"Test to see if they have the same strain of HIV."

"You think whoever this sample is from has HIV?"

"I don't know, that's what I need you to tell me."

"I'll..."

"Now!" He insists.

"What is going on around here? I feel out of the loop. You guys are keeping something from me, and I don't like it."

"You are better off, not knowing."

"Tell me!"

"I can't. I need your help. Someone else needs your help, too."

"Who?"

"Just trust me Abby."

"Ok, I'll put it at the top of my list," she agrees.


	10. Facts First

She hits him in the head with a ball of paper. He looks up at her, from his desk.

"Is there a reason that you are throwing things at me?"

"What are you doing?"

"I am working."

"I would be working, but I am not allowed to do anything, of any significance."

"Going through the calls to and from the victim, and the suspects, that is important."

"Are you going through all my outgoing, and incoming calls?"

"I did that hours ago," he reveals.

"Did you find anything?"

"You order take out, far too much."

"You are the one that always makes me call."

His phone rings. "Ok, I'll be right down," he agrees. He hangs up the phone.

"Tony, what aren't you telling me?"

"You are a suspect in an ongoing case, I can't tell you anything."

"Tony..."

He walks over to her desk. He places his hands on the surface of the desk. He stares at her. She looks back at him with troubled brown eyes.

"I will tell you, when the time is right."

"Is this about..." she finds herself unable to finishes the sentence.

"No. It's not. It's about something else, something that you don't need to worry about."

"Worry about? What should I not be worried about?"

"I've got to go talk to Abby."

"Fine," she replies.

He hops on the elevator, and rides to Abby's lab.

"What do you have for me Abs?" he questions.

"Your results."

"What did you find out?"

"Tony, I need to know the truth."

"No, you don't. You're better off not knowing."

"Gibbs knows?"

"Yes," he nods.

"And Ziva?"

"Yes."

"And Ducky?"

"No."

"McGee?"

"No."

"You are protecting someone."

"What can you tell me about the shooter," he changes the subject.

"Tony, tell me what is going on."

"Tell me about the shooter."

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"Do you know how tall the shooter was?"

"How tall? Do you have suspect?"

"Our suspect list keeps growing, I would like to start crossing people off the list."

"From the angle of the trajectory I would say that the shooter is approximately 162.5 centimeters tall."

"Which translates to what?"

"Five foot four."

"Perfect."

"Perfect?"

"That eliminates at least two suspects. Now tell me about the sample that I gave you."

"It is blood type AB negative. I was unable to link the DNA to the crime scene."

"Did you run it through any databases?"

"No, you specifically told me not to. Tony who does it belong to?"

"Did you destroy the sample?"

"I did everything that you asked me to. Now you need to answer my questions."

"Tell me what else you found."

"There is no match to the strain of HIV that Lieutenant Patterson had, in fact the sample you collected was from someone who is HIV negative."

"Good," he sighs in relief.

"Who is it from?"

"What does the vial say?"

"It didn't say anything. Should I tell you what else I found?"

"Please."

"The person who the sample was collected from is free of all STD's. She has iron deficiency anemia, and I found elevated levels of HCG in her blood."

"HCG?"

"Human chorionic gonadatropin, she's pregnant."

"I know."

"You know? Tony what is going on? Why won't you tell me who this sample is from?"

"I can't answer that."

"What is going on here? You are covering for someone, and I want to know who."

"I would do the same for you."

"I wouldn't ask you to."

"Neither did she."

"Tony..."

He cuts her off, "How certain are you that your reconstruction of the shooting is accurate?"

"One hundred percent."

"So the shooter is five foot four?"

"Yes."

"Then the person who the sample belongs to is no longer a suspect."

"Does Gibbs know everything that is going on?"

"Yes."

"Why can't you tell me?"

"Because it is need to know."

"I need to know," she argues.

"I need you to remain objective. Your objectivity cannot be called into question. You have to be out of the loop, so that your findings will not be challenged."

"Why would my findings be challenged?"

"Because of the nature of this case.""The nature of this case?"

"Sometimes there are things that you don't want to know about people."

"What things? What people?"

"You know that I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

Gibbs steps into the lab. "DiNozzo we have another suspect," he holds up a file. DiNozzo grabs the file, and heads to the elevator.

"Gibbs what is going on?"

"You have to trust him, you have to trust me."

"Why? I want to know what is going on around here."

"Sometimes you have to get all of the facts about something, before you can show your cards."


	11. Another Way

She finds herself slinking off to Abby's lab for refuge. She manages to sneak up on Abby. She stands behind her, silently. Abby spins around, and looks at her in surprise.

"What are you doing down here?"

"I'm hiding."

"From?"

"DiNozzo."

"Why?"

"He just keeps looking at me."

"He can be creepy, but aren't you use to that by now?"

"I just needed to get away."

"I see. Anything I can help with?"

"I do not think so."

"You would be surprised."

"I will miss you."

"Miss me? Where are you going? Are you leaving?"

"I am if they don't sort all of this out soon."

A light bulb goes off in Abby's head.

"It's you."

"What is me?"

"He is protecting you," Abby answers.

"Who is protecting me?"

"No one," Abby lies.

"Do you know what is going on?"

"No one will tell me, do you?"

"Of course."

"So you'll share?"

"I am a suspect," Ziva reveals.

"The prime suspect?"

"Most of the other suspects have been cleared. Tony refused to talk about the investigation. Tony has Gibbs out looking for the murder weapon. And I have to sit by and do nothing."

"I'm sorry."

"I am the prime suspect, and there is no way to clear my name."

"Are you sure? The evidence is circumstantial, and I can see how you would be considered a suspect, but I am sure that there is a way to prove you didn't do it."

"Let's hope so."

"Ziva?"

"Yes Abby?"

"Are we going to talk about this, or would you prefer that I stick to the evidence?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The sample that DiNozzo brought me, it was from you."

"Yes."

"Did he tell you what he had me test for?"

"No. I just assumed that..."

"He didn't tell you the results?"

"Of what?"

"You didn't know? It's probably better that he didn't tell you."

"Tell me what? Abby I know that I am..." she trails off.

"So do I, but I am not talking about that."

"Are you sure? Are you sure that you fully understand?"

"Yes, but you should ask DiNozzo," she responds.

Tim looks up from his computer screen.

"I may have just eliminated one suspect," McGee announces.

Gibbs and DiNozzo join him around the plasma. He clicks a button and a video feed plays.

"It's from an ATM, the day of the murder" he points to the frame, "And that is Ziva, at 5:48 A.M. I've got her on the same camera, on the other side of the street, half an hour later. I also have her on another camera. He clicks again, and another window pops up. They watch Ziva appear on the screen. "This is a stoplight, near her apartment, ten minutes later. I fast forwarded through the footage, she doesn't appear again for an hour," he clicks, "And there she's in her car. She wouldn't have had the time to kill him."

"That's good McGee. We keep eliminating suspects. We still haven't found the lieutenant's killer."

Ziva comes into the squad room. She holds up a file.

"I think that I know who did it."

"Yeah? Who?" Tony questions.

"I spoke to Lieutenant Graham. He remembered someone else who had a grudge against the Lieutenant. It was Patterson's former commanding officer, Jamie Cameron. She filed several complaints against him. She transferred, to another department. Abby was able to trace phone calls from at least four of Lieutenant Patterson's victims to Jamie Cameron. Jamie Cameron just happened to be in D.C. for a conference the day that Lieutenant Patterson was murdered. She was staying at the Capital Hilton. She never signed in for her eight o'clock seminar."

McGee makes a beeline for his desk.

"I'll pull up the footage," he offers.

Moments later the footage is on the screen. They watch her leave the hotel around 0530, and return at 0826.

"Check with rental car companies," Gibbs adds.

McGee makes a few keystrokes. "She put over a hundred miles on her rental. It would take her about forty minutes to get to the Lieutenant's house. That puts us somewhere around ten after six, it would take her about an hour in traffic, to return to her hotel. She would have had plenty of time to kill him. She could have even stopped for coffee on her way back."

"Has she checked out of her hotel yet?" Gibbs questions.

"She doesn't check out until tomorrow."

"Then why did she return her rental car?" Gibbs wonders. "DiNozzo, McGee, pick her up."

They leave the squad room. Ziva returns to her desk. She stares at her blank computer screen. She sits silently. Gibbs approaches her desk.

"Ziva?"

"Yes?" she looks up at him.

"Go home. Take the rest of the day off, you need to get your mind off this case."

"That isn't going to happen."

"It wasn't a request."

"I meant, the getting my mind off this case, that isn't going to happen."

"You know I once read in a book somewhere that, Faith is a knowledge within the heart, beyond the reach of proof."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because it's true. I am not going to give you advice. You know that I stand behind you, no matter what you do."

"Even when my choices are wrong," she adds.

"Because they are your choices."

"But this time, neither of them are right."

"Maybe not, you just have to choose the one you can live with."


	12. Why Don't You Stay

"I am afraid that no matter what I choose, it will be the wrong thing."

"Don't doubt yourself so much."

"I don't know if... I can overcome this," she admits.

"You will."

"How do you know?"

"You're not alone. Whatever you decide, you're not alone."

"Lately I feel like... don't know where I'm going, and I don't know how to get there, either."

"Go home. Take some time. Listen to the voices in your head."

"The only voice I hear is my own."

"Don't let the loudest one win."

"I..."

"Ziva, go home. Give yourself a chance to process."

"I don't know if I want to."

"That is something you don't have a choice in."

She nods, "Ok."

Hours later she finds herself sitting on her couch, numbly watching her TV. Her door opens, and Tony steps in.

"Why didn't you knock?" She wonders as she sits upright.

"Why isn't the door locked?"

"What's the point?"

He takes a seat on her couch. He places a brown paper bag on her coffee table.

"I brought you dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"You've got to eat something," he argues.

"I do not," she retorts.

"Please."

"I am fine. I do not need you to take care of me."

"You aren't doing a very good job of taking care of yourself. You haven't eaten anything, all day."

"The smells make me sick."

"Please try to eat."

"What did you bring, seafood?"

He rolls his eyes, and unfolds the bag. He pulls out a container and hands it to her. He hands her a spoon.

"It's just chicken noodle soup," he reveals.

"I don't have a cold."

"Soup is good for whatever ails you."

"It won't make it go away."

"It will make you less grouchy."

"I am not grouchy."

"Eat," he demands, handing her a napkin. She opens the container. She reluctantly takes a bite.

"You'll be glad to know that Jamie Cameron admitted to everything," Tony reveals.

"I don't really care."

"You don't care? You're not going to prison."

"Does it really matter?"

"Ziva stop. I hate this new apathetic you. Do something, or don't, but get over yourself."

"I have."

"I understand that you are not going to get back to normal, anytime soon, but..."

"But what?"

"You can't just give up on your life."

"What life? I go to work, and come home, everyday. I wake up the next morning, and do it all over again."

"Maybe it's time that you made a change."

"What kind of a change?"

"Anything."

"Tony..."

"Huh?"

"Why did you come over here?"

"I thought you might like some company."

"You are checking up on me?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

"Because I care about you, and I can't stand the thought of you being alone, and dealing with this."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I think right now, I'm just going to listen."

"To what?"

"Whatever is going on in your head."

"You don't want to know."

"Yes I do."

"Why can't things ever go my way? Why do things have to be the way that they are? Now is not the right time for this, but..."

"But?" he prompts her.

"If this were anyone else's baby, I wouldn't think twice. I wouldn't care that the timing is wrong. It would be ok, I would make it work, even if it was your baby."

"My baby?" he questions.

"I don't know," she shrugs, "I was trying to think of what I would consider the worst possible scenario, before this happened."

"Do you want kids?"

"I want something more than what I have."

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm scared that..." she begins to tear up, "I am scared that this baby will be the spawn of Satan."

"It's not Rosemary's baby. People tend to become what they are made into."

"I know. That is what I am afraid of. I am afraid that I will not be able to... love this child, even if I wanted to. And if I did, I don't know how much it would matter. I am afraid that even if it wasn't born a monster, I would create one. It would feel resented, and angry, and... I do not want that. I am scared to death that... even if I do everything in my power, it will not be enough. I am afraid that I do not have the strength to overcome the things that have happened. I do not want to have a child who does not feel loved. I do not know if I can love it. I do not know if..."

"I don't have the answer. All I know is that you are stronger, than you think you are. Even when you are ready to give in, you don't. If anyone can do this it's you."

"But do you think that I should?"

"I don't think you should have to."

"That wasn't my question."

"I think it's a terrible idea. I don't think you should do it, but... what I think, doesn't matter."

"I cannot seem to make up my mind, and I know that doing nothing, does not solve anything."

"You told me what your head is thinking, now tell me about your heart."

"I am afraid that I am going to feel guilty for the rest of my life, for making a decision that was not mine to make, for taking a life, that was not mine to take. I cannot see the future. I do not know who this baby may become. I am afraid that if I do this, I won't get another opportunity, and... I know that isn't a good enough reason. I have taken many lives, and I have a hard time understanding why this is so hard. This life has no name, no face. This life, is not even really considered a life. To live you must breathe, and this life has not drawn a breath. I do not even know, what it is. I do not know that it makes a difference, because I am always going to wonder, if genetics is more important."

"You're scared, that it will be a boy? That if you don't go through with this, you'll regret it, because you'll spend his whole life, worrying that he will become a monster, instead of a man."

"Is that wrong?"

"No."

"Will you go with me, if that's what I decide to do?"

"Of course."

"And if I don't?"

"I'm not going anywhere," he promises.

"And you'll stay, tonight?"

"If that's what you want."

She doesn't answer. She just flips the TV back on. She lies down, facing the TV. Her head rests on his lap. He pets her hair as she stares at the television.


	13. Not Ready To Face The World

"You know that there is a third option, right?"

"Yes," she nods.

"Have you considered that?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I am beginning to think that it is the only valid option. It is the only way that I can give it a chance."

"You seem convinced."

"As much as I want to end this, I know that I can't. No matter how hard I try, I'll never be able to do it. I know that I can't... I could never love it. I would like to think that I could, that some things do not matter, but... that is not true. I could never do that. I could never..."

"Ok," he agrees.

"Ok?"

"None of this is ok, but if that is what you want, I'm here for you. No matter what you want, I am here for you."

"Are you sure, about that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because this is probably going to get worse, before it ever gets better."

"I am not going anywhere."

"What if..."

He puts his finger to her lips. "Shh!" he insists. She looks up at him.

"Why did this have to happen?" she wonders with tears in her eyes.

He looks down at her. She seems so fragile. He answers the best way he knows how, "I don't know. I can't answer that."

"Do you think that I..."

"I think that everything happens for a reason. And eventually you'll know what it is, but right now, no one knows."

"I..."

"Try to get some sleep," he begs.

She closes her eyes. Eventually she drifts into oblivion. He watches her as she sleeps. Even in her sleep, she seems broken. He decides to take her to her bed.

"Ziva I'm going to take you to your room," he whispers, "If you object, let me know."

She doesn't move. Her breathing doesn't change. He pushes her head, and torso into a sitting position. He slides one hand behind her back, and the other under her legs. He stands up, and holds her in his arms. In her sleep she holds on to him. He walks into her room, and carefully places her in the bed. He pulls back the covers, and slides her underneath. He tucks the covers around her. He stands over her, for a moment, watching her as she sleeps.

Her hands is suddenly wrapped around his wrist. She holds onto him, firmly.

"Zi, let go."

"Don't go," she murmurs, half-asleep.

"I'm just going to the couch," he reveals.

"No," she replies, not letting go of his arm.

"Where do you want me to sleep?"

"Don't go. Don't leave me in here, alone," she begs.

A moment passes, and she slides onto the other side of the bed. "Please," she begs.

He crawls in bed next to her. She rolls onto her side, with her eyes closed. She has her back to him. He listens to her breathe, until he falls asleep.

When she wakes up his arms are around her. She is on the opposite side of the bed, and her hand is wrapped around his forearm. He attempts to lift his arm, but she doesn't let him.

"Let go," he insists.

"I don't want you to," she counters.

"Are you sure?"

"I... right now, I just need you to hold me. I need you to tell me to tell me that everything that is going to be ok. I need you, to lie. It's the only thing that is going to keep me sane."

"Ok. I just figured that you were going to be sick."

"Why would I be sick?"

"It's morning, I think it's called morning sickness, for a reason, right?"

"What time is it?"

"Five fifteen," he replies.

"Oh."

"Don't you start your days off the same way?"

"Yes," she nods.

"So are you going to be sick?"

"No," she responds, realizing that she feels perfectly fine.

"Are you going to get up, and go for a run?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I want to stay here, with you."

"Why?"

"Because you are the only person who can make me feel safe, anymore."

"Why do you have so much faith in me?"

"I would be dead without you, we both know that."

"I didn't do anything that you wouldn't have done."

"That is not the point. I know that I can trust you, that I can count on you, and that is what I need right now. I just need someone that I can trust."

"I will help you, however I can."

"Sometimes you can't help me. Sometimes I have to help myself."

"What do you mean?"

"You are right, I can't hold everything inside. I am the only one who can change that."

"It's ok to be scared, you know that, right?"

"I do not know what is ok, anymore. I wish that I did, but lately... nothing seems right. Nothing seems ok."

"What can I do?"

"Just be here."

"Can I make you something to eat?"

"Why are you obsessing over what I eat?"

"Because you barely eat, and you may not like the thought, but you are no longer the only person you have to think about."

"I'm not hungry."

"Can I make you some tea?"

"No."

"No?"

"I am not ready to face the world, yet. Can we just stay here, for a few more minutes?"

"Of course."


	14. Holding Back

McGee looks up as Gibbs enters the squad room. Their eyes meet, and Tim can't help but ask the questions.

"Boss?"

"Yeah McGee?"

"Is Ziva ok?"

"I can't answer that, Tim."

"In your opinion," he clarifies.

"No, she's not ok. I would be more concerned if she was."

"Gibbs?"

"What, McGee?" he huffs as he takes a seat at his desk.

"Where are Tony, and Ziva?"

"I don't know."

"You aren't concerned?"

"McGee, he's the only one who can help her right now. I am not going to try and stop that."

"Is anyone ever going to tell me what is really going on? Why Ziva was really a suspect? All anyone ever said was that she knew him."

"Tim, sometimes I wonder about you. You have an Ivy league education, put the pieces together."

"The case has been over for days, but... no one wants to talk about it."

"McGee I'm not the one you need to talk to about this. If you want to know, you ask her. Do you understand?"

"Yes, boss," he nods.

He sits beside her, holding her hand. He watches her closely. She stares at the ceiling. Her eyes remain frozen on the ceiling tiles. The silence in the room is broken, and she squeezes his hand.

She refuse to look at him, or anything else. She stares at the ceiling tiles in the room, unwilling to be broken, unwilling to let a single tear fall. He holds onto her hand. Any other time, under any other circumstance she would not let him get this close, but the truth was, she needed him. She knew as much as she wanted to shut him out, shut them all out, there was no way she could do this, all alone. The thoughts running around in her head are interrupted by a rhythmic noise. She squeezes his hand, tighter.

The doctor looks at her, and then at him. His eyes ask, but his mouth doesn't move. DiNozzo responds in the only way he deems appropriate.

"Can you give us a minute, please?"

The doctor nods, leaving the room. He throws out his exam gloves on his way out. Tony looks at the screen, and then at Ziva.

"Ziva."

She doesn't look at him. He situates himself entirely in front of the screen.

"Look at me," he insists.

She turns her head, and stares at him.

"Are you ok?"

"No," she admits as she feels the tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Make it go away," she begs.

"I can't do that. If you want to, you can."

"No. I have to do this."

"Can I have him come back in?"

"Yes," she agrees.

Tony lets go of her hand. He goes to the door, and opens it. The doctor stands outside the room, waiting. Tony motions him back in.

Tony returns to his seat. He finds that she is no longer staring at the ceiling, she now stares past him. She stares at a screen. The doctor continues his exam. As the sound of a single heartbeat fills the room, she knows that there is nothing she can do.

She stares at the image on the screen. She listens to the sound of a beating heart, fill the room. She stiffens, trying not to cry. His hand slips into hers. She squeezes his hand, as if to say, make it stop.

Finally it is over. The doctor leaves the room, and she quickly gets dressed. Tony sits with his back to her, but doesn't dare to leave the room. Someone knocks on the door. A nurse comes into the room. She heads towards Ziva, he quickly intercepts her.

"I'll take those," he smiles.

The nurse hands them to him, and leaves the room. As the door closes Ziva's eyes meet his. He pulls a prescription from the top of the pile, he holds it out to her. She takes it from him, and puts it in the pocket of her coat.

He puts his coat on. He slips the pictures into his pocket, without offering them to her. "Ready?" he questions.

She nods. She follows him from the building to the parking garage. She climbs into the car, closing the door behind her. She pulls her seat belt on, as he slides into his seat. She stares out the window, numbly.

When they arrive at NCIS Jethro doesn't scold them for being late. Tim looks at them questioningly, but he doesn't ask. Gibbs is on the phone when they reach their desks. Ziva instantly reaches for her backpack. Tony pulls open a desk drawer, and places something inside. He closes the drawer, and grabs his gear.

Gibbs hangs up the phone, and scribbles something down on a piece of paper.

"Grab your gear," he says without looking up.

None of them say a word. He looks up, and finds them all migrating for the elevator. He follows them. When they reach the elevator he hands Ziva the keys.

"We don't get to fight over them, this time?" Tony questions.

"It is her turn," Gibbs points out.

McGee runs through it in his head, "He's right Tony."

"Great, I always wanted to die on a day like today," he whines as they pile onto the elevator.

"It will be a shame too," Ziva agrees.

"Why is that, Agent David?" Tony queries.

She cracks a smile, "Because it's your turn to buy lunch."

"I bought on Monday," he argues.

She nods, "McGee bought Tuesday, Gibbs bought Wednesday, I bought yesterday, that makes it your turn."

"We're all ordering from the dollar menu," he quips.

Gibbs gives them all a dirty look.

"We've got a dead sailor, and all the three of you can think about is lunch?"

"What should we be thinking about?" Tony wonders.

"Is there gas in the car? Did whoever drove it last clean out all of the crap in it? Are we going to make it to the scene, before lunch?"

"Right, boss," Tony nods.


	15. Something To Be

It's late, and they have been working on the case for hours. Gibbs sends a glance in her direction. She meets it. Her eyes tell her that she's tired. She gives him a thumbs up. He returns to his task, knowing that she is too stubborn to admit defeat. She looks at McGee.

"Do you have any gum?"

"No, but Tony probably does. He has a little bit of everything in his desk."

She nods in agreement. She moves over to Tony's desk. She pulls open the top, right hand drawer, and scavenges through it. She does not find gum. She pulls open the middle drawer, and finds nothing but office supplies. The elevator dings, and Tony steps off. He moves towards her.

"What are you doing at my desk?"

"Looking for gum," she replies.

"Top, left hand drawer," he answers.

Her hand tugs on the handle of the drawer. He stops at his desk. His hand covers hers, and quickly slams the drawer shut.

"Would you prefer that I ask, first?" she furrows her brow.

"Let me get it for you," he offers.

"Something you don't want me to see?"

"Please just let me get it for you," he insists.

"Stop acting so petulant. I will not bother your stuff. I'll put it all back exactly as I found it," she pulls the drawer open.

"That isn't what I'm worried about."

She stares at what's lying on top of the pile, in the drawer. He quickly pulls his chair out, just in time. She sinks into the chair. Her breath hitches. He quickly moves into action. He slips his hand underneath the pile. He pulls out the gum, and places it on the desk in front of her. His hand is on the drawer, ready to close it. Her hand touches his, his eyes search hers.

"Don't," she tells him, in a quiet voice.

He nods. McGee, and Gibbs simply watch as the scene unfolds. Ziva sits, in Tony's chair, completely frozen. Her eyes stare at a picture in his drawer. A black, and white still. She pulls the pile of pictures out. She places them on the desk, and thumbs through them. She blinks away tears. She picks up the pile, and shoves the chair away from the desk. She rises to her feet, and pushes past DiNozzo. She takes off. Tony looks at Gibbs, who says nothing. He watches in horror as the elevator doors begin to close. DiNozzo starts for the elevator. Gibbs voice stops him before the doors close.

"Let her go," Gibbs advises.

Tony swallows hard, and returns to his desk.

The elevator dings, and Abby looks up from her computer screen. She finds Ziva moving towards her.

"Are you ok?"

Ziva shakes her head, "No," she admits. She tosses the pictures on Abby's stainless steel lab table. Abby turns around, and takes a moment to look at the pictures. She looks up at Ziva.

"I am ready to talk, now," Ziva reveals, weakly.

"First things first," Abby answers. Abby pulls Ziva into a hug, and Ziva does not push her away, instead she hugs her back. After a few moments Abby lets go. She smiles at Ziva.

"Ok, go ahead."

Ziva stares at Abby, with tears in her eyes. She attempts to wipe them away with the back of her hand, before they fall.

"Don't," Abby instructs.

Ziva gives a slight nod, and the tears begin to trail down her cheeks.

"Take your time."

"I..." she begins, her voice shaky, "Tell me that I am doing the right thing. I don't care if you have to lie, just tell me that I am doing the right thing. Tell me that..."

"Ziva, you are doing the right thing."

"You don't even know what I am doing," Ziva argues.

"I am sure whatever it is, is the right thing."

"I'm not."

"You're scared?"

"Scared, does not even begin to cover it."

"Terrified?"

"I do not know that I can ever get over this. I..."

"It could be worse," Abby offers.

"Worse, how could it be worse? Do you understand?"

"I shouldn't have said that."

"Wait, how could it be worse?"

"Tony didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Jason Patterson was," Abby trails off.

"Was what?"

"HIV positive."

Ziva feels the breath being knocked out of her. She struggles to breathe, to think, or to speak.

Abby continues, "That's why he made me run a sample of your blood. You are fine. You're HIV negative. I think that he chose not to tell you, because he didn't want you to worry. He didn't want to add any stress to your life, and since the results were negative, there was really no reason, to tell you."

"I..." she sucks in air, unable to speak.

"Words, use them, Ziva."

Ziva points to a picture, on the table, "That, is not ok."

"I know, I know."

"So why am I doing this? Why am I doing this to myself? I don't have to do this. I have nothing to prove, to anyone. I do not have any reason that I have to do this."

"So why are you? For lack of a better option?"

"I do not want to be the one who makes the decision. It is not my place to chose to end a life, that has not yet begun. I cannot hand out a death sentence, to someone who is completely innocent. I..."

"You want to prove something, to yourself?"

Ziva nods, "I am not a monster."

"I know that."

"But I... I am not convinced."

"No one expects you to do this. No one expects you to be ok. It is ok to fall apart. What happened to you, it was unthinkable. Having to carry this around with you, for the rest of your life, it is not a burden that you should have to have, but you are choosing it. I know that this is hard, and I know that you are always going to wonder if you made the right choice, no matter what you decide, but this will not break you."

"I am not so sure. I feel like everything is spiraling out of control."

"And it is, but it will be over. One day it will be over."

"Will it? Do you really believe that?"


	16. Breaking Apart

"You are the strongest person that I have ever known."

"But I do not know, if even I can do this."

"Then don't."

"I have to."

"Why?"

"Because if I don't, I no better..."

"Better than who?"

"All of the people who have been a wronged in their lives, and used it as an excuse to become a soulless, malignant person, who feels nothing. I refuse to become that person. I would rather feel this, deal with the pain, than feel nothing."

"The world would be a better place if there were more people like you."

"People like me?" She shakes her head.

"People who have been dealt a crappy hand in life, and chosen not to let it define them. Someone who has chosen to take a chance, a chance for another hand, to have the chance to get better cards."

"I guess that you must think that I enjoy pain."

"I have often wondered, but after you came back from Somalia, I realized that you are different than most people. You do not enjoy pain, but you refuse to allow pain to take away your humanity, no matter how unbearable it is."

"This is different, this is worse. When I was there, I was certain that I would die. I was certain that it would end, and I would never have to worry about healing. This will not kill me. It will just be another scar."

"The worst kind, too. The ones that no one can see."

"The physical ones heal, but..."

"The other ones, they don't always heal."

"I am sorry to be unloading this on you."

"Do not break the rules."

"Why are they so important to you?"

"How else would we know that we're wrong?"

She shrugs. Abby collects the pictures, into a pile. She takes them into her office, and puts them in the bottom drawer of her desk. She locks the drawer.

"I should be able to look at them," Ziva insists, "It is real. It is not going to go away, just because I wish that it would."

"But you aren't ready to face it, not yet."

"This is not how this is supposed to be. I mean, this," she struggles for the words, "baby. Genetically it is mine, too. Under different circumstances, I would be happy about this. Having a child, that is supposed to be a joyful thing. A child should come into a world where it is wanted, where it is loved, but... I can't do that. I am supposed to be the one who does that, and I know that I can't. I know that I never will be able to."

"You will find someone, who will."

"Today, at the appointment... I heard the heartbeat, and... I knew that most people must be excited to hear that, for the first time. All I could think about, is how I wished that I couldn't hear it, how I wished that it was all just a bad dream, and I could wake up."

"Come on," Abby ushers her towards the door.

"Where are we going?"

"I am going to take you home."

"I do not want to go home. There is no one there. It is just me. Leaving me alone with my thoughts, that is a dangerous thing."

"I never said that I would leave you alone."

"I can just stay here."

"Why don't we compromise?"

"Compromise?"

"You will stay with me?"

"And if I do not want to?"

"It isn't a choice."

"Understood."

Hours later Abby wanders into her living room. She finds Ziva on the couch, snoring. The snoring stops.

"Go back to sleep," Abby insists.

"I can't."

"Do you ever sleep?"

"Not very much."

"Is there anything that I can do, to help you, go back to sleep?"

"No."

"Should I leave?"

"Abby?"

"Huh?"

"What do you believe about dreams?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I keep dreaming that..." she stops.

"That what?"

"Of a little boy."

"Oh."

"I know that there is no way for me to know. I know how silly it must sound, but... I have this feeling, in the pit of my stomach..."

Abby interrupts, "A gut feeling?"

"Yes. I have a gut feeling that it will be a boy, and that terrifies me."

"I know."

"You aren't going to tell me that I am being unreasonable?"

"I wish that I could, but I don't know much about the science of gut feelings."

"Why does it matter? It isn't as if it is a girl that I am suddenly going to decide not to give it up."

"Because you're worried that the sins of the father are the sins of the son."

"Yes."

"Ziva, I don't think that you should worry about it."

"Why not?"

"You are not like your father."

"But I could have been."

"But you are not."

"Why did this have to happen? Do you think that I deserved this?"

"I do not think that we are ever given more than we can handle. Obviously you can handle more than most."

"Maybe I don't want to."

"We all have burdens, that we carry around with us. We can let them tear us apart, take everything that we have ever wanted..."

"Or?"

"Or we can proudly claim our battle wounds, and continue to fight for what we want. Even though we are scared, and we fear for our life, we stand back up, in the line of fire, in the hopes that one day, we will find the answer that we have been searching for, all along."


	17. Parasite

They watch, as she talks on the phone, at her desk. She smiles, and ends the conversation, "I don't think you're what I'm looking for." She hangs up the phone. They groan and roll their eyes. McGee looks at Tony.

"How many are we up to?"

"Twenty-eight."

Ziva walks over to the plasma. She shakes her head. And corrects her partner, "Actually it's thirty, but who's counting?"

"You, obviously. They can't all have something wrong with them," Tony adds.

"I just haven't found the right ones yet," she admits.

"The clock is ticking," he stares at her stomach.

No one would know everything that she had been through. To anyone else, she was just a cranky, pregnant woman. She was not that different than other pregnant women. She ate constantly. Her back ached. She had to run to the bathroom, every ten minutes.

He hated to admit it, but she did glow. She was not happy about the situation, but she was even more beautiful now. From behind it was not noticeable, the only weight she had gained was in her stomach. It was as if the parasite was sucking her dry.

Then again, she was not like other pregnant women. She was eight weeks from her due date, and she had already been in the hospital twice. The sonograms pained her. She did not want to see pictures of the baby. She was not preparing a nursery, she was just preparing for the misery to end. She had refused to let it get in the way of her job. Now she had to wear a vest whenever she was in the field, but it didn't slow her down.

Outwardly, she looked unfazed, but he knew the truth. He had been there for the breakdowns. He had been there, both times she had to go to the hospital. She was determined to do this, even if it took everything that she had. When she had said, _"It will get worse, before it ever gets better," _he hadn't known the half of it.

_Nine weeks in, the morning sickness, had stopped abruptly. A week later, it returned with a vengeance, this time far worse than the last. She fought it, but it fought back. It seemed as if, the fetus growing inside her had a personal vendetta. _

_March 25th- _

_She comes into NCIS. It takes all of her strength, just to make it to her desk. Three pairs of eyes watch her closely. She was seventeen weeks along, and she wasn't showing. Which was not entirely unusual, considering the fact that she spent all of her time throwing up. It seemed as if she couldn't keep anything down. For weeks she had been living on broth, and gatorade. She couldn't seem to stay hydrated. _

_Tony enters the squad room behind her. He stands in front of her desk. She doesn't even have the strength to ask him what he's looking at. Her skin is pale, she looks thin. Far thinner, than he had ever seen her. Dark circles outline her eyes. Her eyes are red, and bloodshot. Before he can open his mouth she is bolting for the bathroom. She winds up in the men's bathroom. It is closer to her desk. He wanders in behind her. He waits for her to finish. She walks past him, wordlessly. She pulls the travel toothbrush, and toothpaste, out of her pocket. He reaches in his jacket pocket, and pulls out a bottle of mouthwash. She takes it from him. He follows her out of the bathroom. They are barely through the door when it happens. She stops midstep._

_"Are you ok?"_

_"I don't feel very good," she admits._

_"Are you going to be sick?"_

_"I'm just light headed."_

_As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she is stumbling. He catches her, just before she hits the floor. He scoops her into his arms. She opens hers, and looks at him._

_"Take her to the hospital," Gibbs barks from his desk._

_Tony nods, and heads for the elevator. Ziva does not argue with him as he carries her to his car. _

_An hour later she's been admitted, and they allow him into her room. He trots into her room, and finds her attached to an IV. The nurse approaches him._

_"We're trying to rehydrate her. We've also given her something to alleviate the nausea, and vomiting."_

_"She can barely keep anything down."_

_"Hopefully this will help."_

_The nurse leaves the room. He takes a seat next to her bed. She stares at him. Her arms are folded across her chest. _

_"What is that look for?"_

_"I did not..."_

_"Don't argue," he replies. He smiles at the sight of her, in a hospital gown._

_"Why are you smiling?"_

_"You look great in anything, even a hospital gown."_

_"Now is not the time," she warns._

_"You're right. Now is the time for you to try and get some rest."_

_"I.."_

_"Sleep, Ziva. You need some sleep. I will be right here."_

_"Ok," she agrees rolling onto her side. She faces him, and closes her eyes. _

_Hours later he is forced to wake her up. _

_He whispers, "Hey, Zi, wake up."_

_Her heavy eye lids, slowly peel apart. She looks over at him. _

_"The doctor is here," he reveals._

_She nods in acknowledgement. Her doctor takes a seat. _

_"I'm just going to take a look at the baby."_

_The doctor was know aware that he should not call it, her baby. This time she doesn't stare up at the ceiling tiles. She watches the doctor closely. He squirts gel onto her abdomen. The probe eventually stops, and an image comes onto the screen. She stares at the image, feeling something, more than nothing. The doctor finishes the exam. He hands her a tissue, to wipe off the gel._

_"Everything looks good," he assures her._

_"Can you tell what it is?"_

_The doctor looks at Tony for direction. Tony shifts his glance to Ziva._

_"Ziva, I thought that you said it didn't matter."_

_"It doesn't, but I want to know."_

_"If it doesn't matter why do you want to know?"_

_"Because I do. People ask a lot of questions, I would like to be able to answer at least one of them. I can only take so much."_

_"Are you sure?" Tony questions._

_"Yes," she nods, "Knowing changes nothing, I just want to know."_

_Tony nods, and the doctor takes a seat, next to her. He hands her a tissue, before saying a single word._


	18. Gremlins

_April 7th-_

_They are in the garage, on their way to the car, to go to a crime scene. He turns around, and she stands frozen, next to the elevator. He looks at Gibbs, who motions for Tony to continue to the car. In passing, Gibbs tosses Tony the keys. He makes his way over to Ziva. She holds her backpack in front of her. He places it on the ground._

_"Ziva? Something wrong?"_

_"No. I don't think so," she replies._

_"You don't think so?"_

_"I'm fine."_

_"So why are you still standing here?"_

_"I guess that I was just caught off guard."_

_"By what? Did I miss something?"_

_Her nostrils flare, and she nods._

_"What happened?"_

_"Nothing. It won't happen again."_

_"It won't happen again?"_

_"It probably will happen again, but I will be prepared for it, the next time."_

_"Prepared for what?"_

_"To feel it."_

_"Feel it?" he furrows his brow._

_"He moved," she reveals._

_"Who?"_

_"The baby," she responds._

_"You need a minute?"_

_"No, I am fine."_

_"Are you sure about that?"_

_"No, but I am ready to go," she answers, picking up her bag. _

_He follows her to the car. She climbs into the backseat, next to McGee. _

_May 24th- He watches, in fear. He races towards her, as the shots ring out. He hits the target, and he hits the ground. He watches in horror as she gets hit in the vest, and slams to the ground violently. He doesn't stop moving, until he reaches her side. He bends down beside her._

_"Are you ok?" _

_"Get this off of me!" she insists._

_He sits her up, as McGee, and Gibbs secure the scene. He helps her unfasten the velcro on the vest. He slips it off of her. He studies the placement of the bullet in the vest. She looks up in anticipation, of what he's about to ask._

_"Let me see."_

_"I am fine," she argues._

_"Let me see!"_

_She exhales. She lifts up her shirt. She winces in pain when he touches her. He notices that a bruise is already beginning to form. _

_"I think that you should go to the hospital, just to be on the safe side."_

_"I'm fine. He is fine."_

_"Are you sure?"_

_She takes his hand, she presses it to her stomach. He feels something hit his hand._

_"See, he's fine. He just kicked you. Now leave me alone."_

_She pulls her shirt down, and he helps her back onto her feet. McGee, and Gibbs come into view._

_"Tony, take her to get checked out, I don't want to take any chances."_

_She sighs, and rolls her eyes, and Tony escorts her to the car. Two hours later the doctor from the ER sends her home. Tony drives her home to her apartment. _

_"I should go back to work."_

_"He told you to take it easy for the rest of the day," he argues._

_She clears off a seat on the couch. He takes a seat next to her. He notices piles of papers, everywhere._

_"Writing a book?" he questions._

_"It's research."_

_"For a book?"_

_"Potential adoptive parents."_

_"Have you found anyone yet?"_

_"I have contacted eight, already."_

_"And?"_

_"None of them are what I am looking for."_

_"Would you like any help?"_

_"No, but I am sure that you will insert your two cents."_

_"Tell me what you're looking for."_

_"I think that you should know, by now."_

_"Yeah, I do," he nods._

_"What if I choose the wrong ones? What if..."_

_"You won't," he promises._

He stares at her stomach. He tries not to think of the baby inside. She notices him, and he quickly looks away. She continues with what she's saying, but he doesn't hear a word of it. All he can think about, is her. Never once, had he seen her hand subconsciously float to her growing stomach. She referred to the baby as him, after all, it was a boy. He didn't know how she could be so detached. He knew the circumstances, but she was physically attached, after all.

They scatter. Gibbs heads to the elevator. The rest of them disperse to their respective desks. Tony's stomach growls, and he and McGee check their watches at the same time. Without a word Tim reaches into his desk, and pulls out a bag of pretzels. He throws them to Tony. Tony catches them, and gets up from his seat. He walks over to Ziva's desk. He places them in front of her.

"Am I that predictable?" she wonders.

"McGee, and I have found that it is better to keep to a strict feeding schedule."

"Better how?"

"You are not as cranky when you are hungry."

"I am not cranky."

"Of course not," he patronizes her.

"I'm not," she argues.

"It's kind of like the movie Gremlins, did you ever see that?" he drones on.

From the other side of the room McGee smiles.

"Yeah, your rules are very similar."

"My rules?" She raises an eyebrow.

"No food after midnight, no bright lights, no eating candy bars, in front of you," McGee recites.

"You forgot no water."

"Tony that was Gremlins. We decided that one would be cruel, remember?" McGee questions.

Gibbs chimes in from behind DiNozzo, "DiNozzo you forgot, that we agreed not to mention the word candy, around her."


	19. Empty

"What are you doing?" Abby questions spinning.

"I came to see you," Ziva reveals.

"Do you need something?"

"Yes," she nods.

"What?"

"I need in the drawer."

Abby takes her eyes off of Ziva, and stares through the glass door of her office, at her desk.

"You want in the drawer?"

"Yes."

Abby is unsure of what to say. For months Ziva had brought her pictures, without ever wanting to look at them. Abby had dutifully placed them in a locked drawer, in her desk. Ziva didn't talk about it. She just walked around, with a sullen look on her face.

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Ok, but... I have one condition."

"What's that?"

"You talk, to me."

"I have."

"You haven't talked to me about this, for months."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Just tell me what is going on in your head."

"I... it is hard to explain."

"Six months ago when you came to me, it was before anyone else knew. It was before anyone else could tell. It was before you looked pregnant. It was before you knew that you were going to have a boy. It was before he started moving. I know that things have changed."

She nods. She stares at the one thing she could not deny. The burden of proof. She stares at her stomach. Abby can hear the wheels in her head turning. Ziva looks, but she doesn't touch. She never touches.

"Where do you want me to start?"

"The day that you found out, you were having a boy," Abby suggests.

Ziva thinks back to that day, the way that she felt.

_March 25th,_

_He tells her, and she doesn't react. The doctor leaves the room, and she watches Tony. He waits for her to lose it. She puts the side rail down. Her feet swing over the side. They hang over the side of the bed. She looks at him, with pleading eyes._

_"I want to go home," she tells him._

_"You can't," he reminds her._

_"I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to do this anymore."_

_"You have to. It's too late to turn back now."_

_"Why? It's not fair. I don't want this."_

_"Shh! It's going to be ok."_

_"No, no it won't. Didn't you hear him?" the tears begin._

_"I heard him."_

_"A boy. I knew it, all along."_

_"You said that it wouldn't change anything, but it has, hasn't it?"_

_"What if he..."_

_"Ziva he won't."_

_"I..."_

_He takes her in his arms. _

She looks at Abby. Abby stares back at her.

"Ziva, can I ask you something?"

"Has anyone ever been able to stop you?"

Abby smiles, "You never..."

Ziva answers her, before she can finish the sentence, "I know."

"Why?"

"I guess that I am still in denial."

"How could you be in denial?"

"I don't know. I look at myself in the mirror every morning, and I don't recognize the person staring back at me. I have just decided to pretend that it isn't me, I guess. I wish that I could be ok with this, but I am not. I lie in bed, awake at night, because he never seems to stop moving."

"You never..."

"I feel him moving inside of me, all day long, and I just want it to stop. I guess that I am afraid that if I allow myself to go there, that if... I am afraid that..."

"You are afraid that you are going to become attached?"

"That can't happen. I can't keep him, even if I wanted to, it's not an option. I have to give him up, because it is the only way he has any chance to become someone good."

"Why do you want the pictures? You never look at them."

"I can't. It is just a reminder that... this is real."

"So why do you want them, all of a sudden?"

"I am meeting with a couple later today. I think that they are the ones, and I want to have something to show them. I cannot pretend to be happy, I cannot pretend that I feel anything towards this baby. Those pictures are the only thing I have to offer."

"Ok," Abby agrees. She turns, and goes into her office. She grabs a key, and unlocks the drawer. She pulls out a book, and returns to the lab. She hands the book to Ziva.

Ziva takes it, and looks at her questioningly.

"What is this?"

"I put them in a book. I thought that you might want them one day."

"Why would I want them? I don't need anymore painful reminders."

"Because one day, this is going to be over. You are going to wake up one day, and your apartment, and your womb, they are going to be empty. And for a minute you are going to feel something. You are going to want these. You can't have him, but you are going to need something to remind you that you did the right thing. That for nine months you put yourself through Hell, for him. You did it, so that he could have a chance to be a good man, one day."

"Oh."

"I hope that they are the ones."

"Thanks, Abby."

"Anything, for you."

"For everything," Ziva clarifies.

"You're welcome," she smiles.

Ziva leaves the lab, and heads for the elevator. She climbs inside. She stares at the blue photo album. The elevator starts to move, and she hits the emergency switch. She sinks to the floor of the elevator. She flips open the book, to the last page. She stares at a picture. This one is not black and white. This one is a three dimensional image, of the baby she was carrying inside of her. This is the one, where he looked like a person.

It wasn't just a blob, on a piece of paper. She could out his features. His eyes, his tiny nose, his lips, and his ears. What troubled her the most was his lips. In the picture, even though he was not yet born, his lips were upturned, in a smile. She takes a few moments to regain her composure, and hoists herself off the floor. She flips the elevator back on, and it begins to move. It reaches it's destination, and the doors come open.

Tony stares at her. He gets into the elevator with her, allowing the doors to close behind him. The elevator attempts to move, but he quickly stops it.


	20. Moral Support

"So you're going to meet with them, tonight?"

She looks at her watch, and nods, "Yes, in about an hour."

"You think that they are the ones?"

"I certainly hope so."

"Have you actually met with any of the other prospects?"

"No. I have never made it that far."

"I guess that I should turn the elevator back on, so you're not late."

"Yeah," she agrees.

"Is that what you're wearing?"

She looks down. "What is wrong with what I am wearing?"

Any other time he would not complain about what she was wearing. It had been hard enough to convince her to buy an maternity clothes. He knew that he couldn't be picky. If she weren't pregnant, there would be nothing wrong with the dress. Not that there was really anything wrong with it, but he just didn't think that it was appropriate. It was simple, and elegant. He wondered how she could be six weeks away from her due date, and still be wearing heels, but he didn't dare ask.

"What is wrong with what I am wearing?" she repeats.

"It's black. You wear a lot of black. It's fine for, the office, but..."

"I am not trying to impress them," she admits.

"That isn't what I meant. It is a nice dress..."

"But?"

"It is black. I think that you should probably choose a different color. You don't want to send the wrong message."

"The wrong message? What message am I supposed to send? Do you want me to put on something bright, and cheerful, and pretend that I am perfectly happy? That I am doing this, to bring joy, and sunshine into someone else's life? Because, I certainly am not."

"Fine, wear that."

The elevator doors open, and he follows her to her desk. She grabs her stuff. She whips around, and finds that he is still watching her.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. He steps back, out of her way. He turns, and walks over to his desk. He takes a seat in his chair, and watches her as she starts to walk away. She's halfway at the elevator when she turns around, and looks at him. He quickly looks at his computer screen, and pretends that he's not watching her. He doesn't meet her glance, but he feels her eyes boring through him.

"You should probably come with me, Tony."

His head snaps up. He looks at her, "And why is that? Do you need moral support?"

"I just do not want to answer all of your questions about them, tomorrow."

"Oh, ok," he agrees, grabbing his things, knowing that is a miniscule part of the reason.

When they arrive at the restaurant a nice couple is waiting at a booth for them. They take their seats, and order drinks.

"So is he..." the blonde questions.

"No. He is my partner. He is just here for moral support," Ziva clarifies.

The husband furrows his brow, "He's your life partner?"

She shakes her head, "No. We work together. He is my partner, at work."

"Oh."

"I'm sure that you have a lot of questions for us," the wife smiles nervously.

"Not as many as you would think. My partner probably does, he's pretty nosey," she turns and looks at Tony. He smiles.

"So tell me, Ben, Emily, what brings you here, to this point in your life? Why have you gone with adoption?"

Emily's brown eyes meet his, "We tried for several years to conceive a child, and we couldn't. I had always wanted to adopt, so we decided that it was the best way to start a family."

"Ben?"

"I'll admit that at first I wasn't fond of the idea, just because I didn't really know that much about it, but... I have come to realize that it doesn't matter where your child comes from, how it gets here, because you love it same, no matter what."

"I can tell that you have questions for me," Ziva directs at Emily.

The couple looks at each other. Ziva, and Tony study them carefully. Emily has thick, long, blonde hair, and big brown eyes. Ben has dark hair, and hazel eyes. Their physical appearance would be a good match for the baby. Without a single look at her, Tony can feel Ziva's nervous energy.

"You never really said why you wanted to give the baby up for adoption."

Tony changes the subject quickly, "So do the two of you have a preference? Boy, or girl?"

"Ben has a daughter, from a previous marriage, she's twelve. I think that he wants a boy, but we will be happy with whatever we get."

"Interesting," Tony comments.

Ziva finally catches her breath, and re-enters the conversation. "I am having a boy," she reveals.

"Ziva... I think that you should," Tony begins.

She nods before he finishes the sentence.

"I know that the two of you must be wondering, why I would want to give up this baby. I am old enough to have a child, to support a child. I have a good job, and a great support system. You must be thinking that I would have to be completely out of my mind to do this. Who would want to give up a baby? At my age I must be completely emotionless, to be able to do this. That thought probably scares you, but I assure you that this is not a decision I reached lightly. I know that I did not give to two of you much to go on. I asked a lot of questions, because I wanted to know, before I met you, if what I am about to tell you would be a deal breaker. I hope that I have not misjudged you, because what I want more than anything, is for this child to go to a home, where his parents love him, no matter what. A home where they love him, even though they know the truth."

"The truth? What truth?" Ben questions.

"If this had simply been an unplanned pregnancy, I would have had no doubt in my mind, that I would keep it, even if the situation was not ideal. That, of course, is not the case here. I want to be able to give him a chance, to be loved, and I simply cannot do that. I wish that I could. You give birth to a child, and you should be able to love them, that should be how it works, but I know better. Because of the circumstances, I do not think that I would be able to do that."

"You said it might be a deal breaker?" Ben questions.

She nods, "If you believe that genetics is a more important factor, than the environment that a child is raised in. If you believe that we become who we are, because our genetics, and nothing more."

"Meaning?" Emily inquires.

She tries to answer, but she chokes. She turns to Tony, who sits next to her. He takes one look at her, and knows what to do.

"What she's saying, is that this isn't a choice she wants to make, but she feels that she has to. She wants to give him the opportunity to become whoever he wants to be, and not have his decisions colored by the circumstances regarding his conception."

Emily's eyes meet his, and then look to Ziva. Ben stares at the table top. Tony gives them a moment to think, and then continues.

"Because he is a product of rape," he divulges.

Emily looks at Ben. He looks at her. Without a word he takes her hand in his, he smiles. He looks up. He looks to Ziva.

"That does not matter to us," he reveals.


	21. Cupcakes

"I know that the two of you have expressed interest, in an open adoption, but... I would prefer not to. If when he is eighteen he has questions, I will be glad to answer them, but... I don't be involved. I can't be. I don't want letters, or cards, or emails, or pictures. I don't need to know how he is doing. I wouldn't choose parents for him that I could not trust. If you are those people, then I have no reason to need to know anything. You can be in the hospital when he's born, and take him with you, when you leave. You can name him whatever you want. I do not want to have any say. If I chose the two of you, then he's yours, and only yours, do you understand?"

They both nod.

She pulls a picture, out of her purse. She slides it across the table to them. It is one of the dozens she had, in a book, for later.

"I thought that you might want to have this," she offers.

Emily looks at her, and smiles, choking back tears.

"Thank you," Ben tells her.

Hours later, Ziva has just gotten out of the shower, when he knocks on her door. She looks through the peephole, and unlocks the door. She pulls it open. She smiles at him as he stands before her, with a paper bag.

"Tony, what are you doing here?"

"You're hair is wet."

"I just got out of the shower."

"Cute outfit," he jokes.

She looks at the pajamas. A men's NCIS t-shirt. It's grey. It covers her stomach like a tent. Underneath she wears short, hot-pink, pajama bottoms.

"Why are you obsessing over my clothes. I just put on whatever I feel like wearing to go to bed."

"It doesn't really match."

"They are pajamas, they don't have to. Besides, it's not like I can see the shorts anyway."

"They're pink. You know that right? I never pegged you as the hot-pink type."

"They are comfortable, now drop it, ok?"

"Don't you want to know what I brought you?"

She closes the door behind him, as he heads into her kitchen.

"I am guessing that you brought me food, since you insist on me eating every two hours."

"You are hungry every two hours."

"So, are you going to tell me what you brought me?"

"I will, but you're being cranky with me, so I don't know if I'm going to share."

"Tony!"

He pulls the food out of the bag. He hands her the container.

"You brought cupcakes? Why did you bring cupcakes? What is the occasion? You already had your birthday, a few days ago."

"Who said anything about a birthday? Can't we just eat cupcakes?"

"If you keep eating cupcakes you are going to look like the pregnant one in this relationship."

"I think I have already gained more weight than you have."

"Are we celebrating something?"

"Are you giving the baby to the Hanson's?"

"Yes."

"Then I believe we have a reason to celebrate."

"With cupcakes?"

"You sound disappointed. Would you have preferred I brought cake?"

"I would have preferred a stiff drink."

"But you can't have one, because you are pregnant."

"It is not fair. I did not want this. I do not want this baby, yet..."

"You have been diligent."

"I may eat too many sugary snacks, but..."

"You don't drink caffeine, or smoke, or do drugs, or drink. He is going to be all cute, and fat, and squirmy. Just what all those adoptive parents dream of."

"You mean he's going to be healthy?"

"Yes, that is what I meant."

"Can I have my cupcake now?"

"Just one?"

"Just one? You are the one who eats for two, Tony. How much weight have you put on?"

"Just a few pounds. After all, I didn't spend four and a half months throwing up every single thing that I ate."

"I would have gladly traded you places. What is the number?"

"You first."

"Twenty one pounds."

"That's it? Is that twenty one pounds on what you weighed before, or twenty one pounds, when you stopped losing weight, and started gaining?"

"The second one. How much have you gained?"

"Twenty three pounds."

"Yours will not magically disappear, I think that you should go on a diet," she pats his belly.

"Don't touch mine. I am not allowed to touch yours."

"That is different," she argues.

"Yes, yours moves, mine doesn't."

Her face scrunches, "Do you want to touch it?"

"That depends, how hard are you going to hit me, if I say yes?"

"I won't hit you," she promises.

"You're not going to hit me?"

"No."

"But you aren't going to let me touch you, either, are you?"

"I have not decided yet."

"You are actually considering it?"

She doesn't answer him. Her hand touches her stomach, holding her shirt against it. She looks up at him.

"Go ahead," she agrees.

His hand moves. He hesitates. His hand hovers inches from her stomach, afraid to actually touch her.

"He does not have teeth, he cannot bite. He is still inside of me, what are you afraid of?"

"That you'll bite."

"I do not bite. Go ahead."

He touches her, and she doesn't even cringe. She watches him, as his hand rests on her stomach. She waits a few seconds. The baby kicks Tony's hand. Tony moves his hand.

"Why does he always kick me?"

"He probably does not like you."

"That's rude."

"Did you know that when he kicks if you watch closely you can see his foot?"

"You're making that up."

"I am not."

"How do you know?"

"I spend all day, every day, with him inside of me. Sometimes he wakes me up in the middle of the night, kicking me in the rib, if he doesn't like the way that I am lying. I try not to think about it, I try not to accept the fact that there is a baby inside of me, but it is very hard to deny."


	22. Middle Of Nowhere, With Nowhere To Go

She walks into the squad room, and takes a seat at her desk. Tim comes in behind her, and then DiNozzo. DiNozzo takes a seat at his desk.

"You shouldn't feel bad. What I told you last night isn't true. It's not twenty-one, now I'm up to twenty-seven."

"You had a doctor's appointment this morning?"

"Yes, it turns out that I know have something called gestational diabetes."

"Which means what?"

"That he's probably going to be humongous."

"Does he think that you will actually make it to September?"

"Considering the fact that my blood pressure is borderline pre-eclamptic, it is doubtful. He said that he wants to schedule a c-section, in three weeks."

"What did you tell him?"

"That he could forget it."

"You are more afraid of having a c-section, than pushing a boulder out of your..."

"No."

"So why did you say no?"

"It will happen, when it happens. I am more than ready to get this over with, but he'll come out, when he's ready."

"I hope that stubbornness is not a genetic trait."

"Why is that?"

"You have more than enough for two people," Tony comments.

She throws a wad of paper at his head.

Two weeks later she is more miserable than ever. She finds herself in a car with Tony, on the interstate, on a Sunday afternoon.

"How are you doing? Do you need to pee?"

"I'm fine."

"I can't believe that we have to drive to a scene six hours away."

"They got stuck behind an accident, and they're still an hour behind us."

"As least we got the car with air conditioning."

"McGee must be dying. It is only a hundred degrees."

"Look I know that I am not the most preferable roommate, but please don't stick me with McGee. I don't want to hear his whining, all night long."

"I do not want to stay in a hotel, over night, in the middle of nowhere."

"You are the one who refuses to go on maternity leave. I know you're not keeping the baby, but you can still take the time. You have six weeks, you can take them all now."

"I'm fine."

"You're miserable. You have to pee every ten minutes. We have to stop once an hour so that you can stretch your legs. You keep clenching your fists, like you're angry at the world..."

"That's not why I'm clenching my fists."

He looks over at her, "You're not in labor are you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I am pretty sure."

"Pretty sure?"

"I have to pee, again."

"Ok," he looks for a good place to pull over.

He finds an empty doctor's office. He gets out of the car. By the time he reaches the door she has already broken in. He finds her punching in the security code.

"How do you know the code?"

"The phone number is on the door. The numbers that are worn on the keypad, just happen to be the last four digits of the phone number."

"Oh."

He follows her out of the waiting room, into a hallway. He flips on the light. She makes beeline for the bathroom. He leans against the wall, outside of the women's restroom. He knocks on the door, wondering why she is taking unusually long. She pulls the door open, and flips off the bathroom light.

"What is that look about?"

"Nothing," she lies.

"Nothing? Don't lie to me."

"We may have a problem."

"What kind of a problem?"

"Did you look at the print out that McGee gave you?"

"Yes, of all the hospitals between D.C., and our desination. Why?"

"Where is the closest one?"

"Over an hour away, why?"

"I don't think that is going to work."

"What is going to work?"

"It's too far."

"Too far? Ziva are you in labor?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been in labor?"

"How long ago did we leave NCIS?"

"Three and a half hours ago."

"And how long were we there before that?"

"Two hours. You've been in labor for five and a half hours?"

"Closer to eight, but... I just thought that they were braxton-hicks contractions. After we got into Virginia I realized that they weren't going away, that they were getting worse, and closer together."

"Ducky is an hour away. I'll call him. He can meet us here. Can you keep it in there, until then?"

"No."

"No? What do you mean no?"

"It isn't going to take that long."

"Ziva what do you want me to do?"

"You are going to have to do it."

"Do what?"

"Deliver the baby."

"You have got to be kidding."

"Does it look like I'm kidding?"

He follows her into an exam room. He flips on the light, and grabs a box of gloves. He dials Ducky, and she climbs onto the exam table.

"Yes Tony?"

"Ziva's in labor."

"Stay where you are, I'll meet you in an hour."

"Ducky, she says that we don't have that much time."

"Tell me what you see."

"What I see? You want me to..."

"You're going to have to take a look."

He hands the phone to Ziva. He looks at her, and she nods, clearly in pain. He takes a look.

"Anthony, what do you see?"


	23. One Day

"A head. Yeah, it's definitely a head."

She looks at him, unsure of what to say. She tries to ignore the pain, to think about something else, but it proves impossible. Her jaw tightens, and her fists pinch. She watches him, unable to do or say anything.

He simply follows all of Ducky's instructions. First he slips a trash bag between her, and the floor. Thing were about to get very messy, after all. She has a death grip on the phone. He is able to locate gloves, and scissors. He realizes that they are in a pediatric office, but before he is able to find anymore supplies her voice cuts through the awkward, and rare silence.

"I need to push," she tells him.

He looks at her, and then to the phone. "Ducky, what do I do?"

"Just pretend that you are playing baseball, you need to be the catcher."

"Ok," he agrees.

She holds onto the sides of the exam table. He watches her turn ten shades of red, as she pushes. He watches the head come forward. She takes a breath, and pushes again.

"Whoa, wait, stop," he insists.

"Tony, talk to me."

"Ducky something is... there is a hand. His hand is against his face."

"There is nothing you can do about that, let her keep going."

Less than a minute later she is pushing again. She gives him another big push.

"Wait," he pleads.

"Tony I cannot wait."

"Ziva, just trust me. Ducky we have a situation here."

"What is it Tony?"

"I have a cord wrapped around the neck, one, two... four times."

"Slip your fingers under the cord, and attempt to unwrap it."

"Duck, I can't. It's too tight."

"Then use the scissors."

Tony carefully, and precisely cuts the cord. Finally he gets the cord away from the neck.

"Ok."

"Now you are going to deliver the shoulders," Ducky instructs.

Before Tony can react Ziva is pushing again. As she pushes he acts on instinct. He gently slides the shoulders out, turning the baby. Tony is unable to hear his own thoughts, through the sound of Ziva's screams. He watches in horror as her skin tears away from itself as the baby emerges. Finally the baby is out, but the room is filled with silence. Tony stares at the lifeless infant, unsure of what to do. Ducky immediately responds to the lack of sound.

"Do you have something to suction his mouth with?"

"No."

"Tony take your gloves off. Stick them in his mouth. Carefully remove anything that you can."

Tony follows his instructions, but the baby does not make a sound. He does not move. He stares at the colorless, motionless baby in horror. Tony quickly cuts the cord.

"Turn him onto his side. Rub his back, to try and stimulate his breathing."

Tony rubs, and rubs, but nothing happens. He then goes on instinct. He places the baby's chest against his hand. With the palm of his hand he slaps the infant's back, between the shoulder blades.

Finally the silence is broken. The baby gasps, and begins sucking in air. Tony places him in the scale, that sits against the wall, next to him. He turns the baby on his side. The baby goes from blue, to grey, to pink, to red. He begins wailing. Tony takes a step back, and begins opening drawers and cabinets. He finds diapers, and receiving blankets. Finally he encounters a bulb syringe. He sucks mucous out of the baby's mouth and nose.

"Tony what are you doing?"

"Using the blue thing to suck the gunk out of his mouth."

"Good."

"I guess that this is where all of the discovery channel knowledge pays off."

"Tony there is one more thing that you need to do."

"And what's that Ducky?"

"Put on your gloves, and deliver the placenta."

"How?"

"Just put the gloves on!" Ziva huffs.

He looks at her, she is still bright red. She is covered in sweat. He returns to her, leaving the baby in the scale. She does all of the work. He simply places the placenta into the bag on the floor.

"Ducky how much blood should I be seeing right now?"

"A moderate amount, why?"

"I can't see through the blood."

"Where are you?"

"At a doctor's office..."

"Mister Palmer..." Tony hears mumbling in the background, "Tony just stay there. I am not entirely sure I will arrive in one piece, the way that Jimmy is driving, but we're on our way."

Ziva hangs up the phone. Tony pulls off his gloves he washes his hands, and puts the phone on the counter.

"Are you ok?" he questions.

"No. I used to think that women were weak for wanting copious amounts of drugs to deal with the pain of childbirth, but I understand now."

He turns, and looks at the baby. The little boy has a head full of dark hair. Tony flips the scale on. He watches at the numbers change. Finally they settle.

"Eight pounds, nine ounces. Not that you really want to know."

He doesn't get a response from Ziva. He turns and looks at her. All of the color has drained from her face.

"Ziva, what's wrong? Are you ok?"

"I don't feel that great," she admits.

"Ziva stay with me. Ducky is going to be here in less than ten minutes."

Tony's phone rings. He quickly answers, putting it on to speaker.

"Tony. Ducky is on his way. I have a helicopter on it's way. It is going to land in the parking lot of the building you're at. Is everyone ok?"

"We're all still alive," Tony responds.

"I'll meet you at the hospital," Gibbs hangs up.

He looks at Ziva.

"Zi, are you still with me?"

"Yes."

"What do you need? What do you want me to do for you, right now?"


	24. Her Child

She doesn't look at him, instead she stares past him. He turns, to see what she's looking at. Her eyes are locked on the baby boy. After a few seconds pass, she answers him.

"I want to see my baby," she replies.

It takes a second for it to register. He realizes that it is the first time she's hasn't referred to the baby as it, or him, or the baby. It was funny how a simple adjective could change the meaning of a sentence so much. He takes a step towards the baby. He slides a diaper on him, quickly fastening the tabs. He slips his hand under the slimy baby, like a pancake turner. He places a blanket underneath him. He quickly wraps the baby in the blanket, and moves him into his arms. He turns around. He looks at Ziva. Ziva reaches for the baby.

"Give him to me."

Tony hesitates, "Are you sure?" he questions.

She nods. He carefully places the newborn into her arms.

"Should I call the Hanson's and have them meet us at the hospital?"

"Not yet."

He watches her. She holds the baby in her arms. She doesn't move, or say anything. She just stares at the newborn. He clears his throat, and decides to ask the question.

"Are you going to be able to do this?"

"It is going to be harder than I thought."

"Is this still what you want to do?"

Ziva stares at the baby's innocent face, "I have to."

"Ok," he nods in agreement.

Hours later she wakes from a deep sleep. She finds that the room is mostly dark, except for a few monitors, and a dim light above the sink. She looks to her right. She finds a chair next to her bed. Tony is sprawled out in it, fast asleep. She looks around the room, for any signs of anyone else. She looks up at the clock on the wall. She realizes that she's been asleep for over four hours. She exhales, and realizes that she has oxygen on. She pulls the nasal cannula out of her nose.

Tony stirs. His heavy eye lids open, and look at her.

"I'm glad to see that you're awake."

"I have been asleep for a long time?"

"You lost consciousness in the helicopter. You lost a lot of blood, they had to give you a transfusion. They also had to give you a lot of stitches. Apparently you have what is considered a second degree laceration. It's pretty nasty. I learned that there are four degrees of lacerations, and even though yours is pretty bad, there are even worse ones."

"So are you still going to be able to be my partner?"

"You mean now that I have had to actively participate in you giving birth?"

She nods.

"Yes, we're still going to be partners. I may not be able to unseen those images, but... I will eventually get over it."

She purses her lips.

"I should probably call the Hanson's, shouldn't I?"

"You didn't already call them?"

"No. I thought that I would wait until you woke up."

"Oh."

"The baby is in the nursery, they gave him a clean bill of health, aside from the dislocated shoulder. They said that it should go back into place pretty easily. Other wise he's perfectly healthy. Ten fingers, and ten toes. All body parts present, and accounted for. They were concerned with his breathing at first, but now he's fine. He's even less scary looking, now that they have cleaned all of the goo off him."

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"I thought that you might like to know."

"Why, would you think that?"

"The way that you looked at him, you can't tell me that it is impossible for you to love him. I wouldn't believe it, if you did. I saw it, earlier. I saw something spark. You love him."

"That is why I have to do this."

"Are you doing this because you think that you have to?"

She furrows her brow. "Why are you asking?"

"What is going through your head right now? Be honest. What are you thinking about?"

"I want to see him."

"You told them you didn't want to have anything to do with him. You said that you didn't want to be involved. What's changed?"

"I have."

"I need to go check in with Gibbs, I'll be back in a minute," he tells her, vacating his chair. He goes out of the room, into the hallway.

He takes longer than she expects. She fights the urge to cry the entire time he is out of the room. Finally he returns, but he isn't alone. He comes into the room, wheeling a basinet, in with him. He pushes it next to the bed. He lifts the sleeping baby out.

"You want to see him?"

She takes a moment, to think. She stares at the innocent face, of the little boy, and looks up to Tony. She gives him a nod. He places the baby into her arms. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

She holds the sleeping baby in her arms. She studies his tiny face. A face with features that she recognizes. Ones that mostly reflect her. She nearly jumps when his tiny eyes pop open. His eyes lids flutter open. He looks up at her with his big, dark eyes. He furrows his brow.

"Please don't cry," she pleads softly.

The baby exhales, and the furrowed brow disappears. He just looks at her.

"Should I give you a minute?"

"To what?"

"Be alone?"

"To get attached?"

"To get acquainted. You don't have to keep him, no one is asking you to. I am asking you, to take a minute, to sort through your feelings, though. He's here now, and that is something that you do have to face. You have to face it now, all of it. I know that you don't like it, but you have no choice. You may not have any desire to be a part of his life, but the fact is, you did give him life. You chose to give him life, and that means something. Even to you, it means something. I am just asking you to let yourself feel this, even if it hurts, because you have to feel it, sometime."

"I know."

"You need to come to terms with this decision, because you can't unmake it. You need to figure out how to let go of this, how to let go of him. So, I am going to give you a minute alone. A moment to reflect, in silence. I don't want my words to crowd out your thoughts."

"Ok," she nods.

He walks out the door. He leaves the door cracked. He leans up against the wall, outside her room. He nearly jumps out of his skin when his phone rings. He pulls it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"How is she doing?"

"She's being quiet, too quiet."

"You think that she's having second thoughts?"

"I think that the reality is finally hitting her. She said that she could do it. When it was just an idea, she was convinced, but now it's a person. I don't think that she really thought how this was going to go. I don't think she anticipated feeling anything. Regardless of what happened, it is a baby she is giving up. It is her baby."

"Have you called the Hanson's?"

"Not yet. I want to make sure that she is certain."

"She's scared, don't let her do anything stupid."

"The only one who is allowed to do stupid things, is me, boss."

"Goodnight DiNozzo. Try to get some rest," Gibbs hangs up.


	25. Choice

He jerks into consciousness. He opens his eyes, to see what is making a ruckus. He looks over at the bed, next to him. The sunlight streams through the window. He looks over at her. She cries in her sleep. He leans forward. He gently touches her hand.

"Hey, Zi, wake up."

Her eyes pop open. She struggles to breathe.

"Are you ok?" he questions.

"No."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yes," she nods.

He stares at her in complete shock. After a moment to process, he opens his mouth, "Ok. Talk."

"I did not expect to feel this way. I did not expect to understand."

"Understand what?"

"When I was doing interviews, of the suspects..."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"She said that it was her baby, so it did not matter. I did not understand that. How could she love that child, knowing the truth? How could she love a child who was created by a monster?"

"It makes sense now?"

"Tony... I never expected this. I never expected to feel anything, for him, about him."

"But you do."

"I love him. I did not think that it was possible, but I do."

"I know that, I knew it all along."

"How?"

"Because you made your decision out of love."

"So now, they leave here with him, and I go home, and pretend that none of this never happened?"

"You've come awfully far, to go back that much."

"I thought I could pretend it never happened, but I can't. He will always be out there. Even if he isn't with me, he is still out there."

"The Hanson's arrived hours ago. The hospital is releasing him at noon."

Before she can say anything, there is a knock at the door.

"Come in," Tony calls out.

Emily Hanson comes into the room. She brings the baby with her. She stops next to Ziva's bed. She takes a seat on the bed, next to her.

"I am not going to leave this hospital, until you convince me that you want this. I will not take him home, and fall in love with him, and have you break my heart, by changing your mind. I'd like to think that I am going to take him home, and he's going to be mine, but the voice in the back of my head... it had to come see you. Tell me that you're sure this is what you want, and I'll leave, but... I don't think that you can. I want you to. I know that you wanted to do this for yourself, and for him, but... the look in your eyes tells me that it is not going the way that you thought it would. You are feeling more than you wanted to, and it scares you."

Finally Ziva is able to say something, "I told you that..."

"You don't want me to take him, do you?"

"You're good people. You deserve this."

"Ziva, that is not what I asked you. I know what my heart feels for him, and I did not give birth to him. I can only imagine what you are feeling, right now."

"I just want what's best for him."

"You have to decide that. I will understand, if you don't want to do this."

The tears begin to stream down her face, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Never, be sorry for loving him. Do you hear me? Never be sorry for that."

Emily smiles. She places the little boy in Ziva's arms.

"I think that we all know, his place is with you."

Emily walks away. Ziva watches her walk away. She looks down at the baby in her arms. He kicks out of his blanket. Without a word, or a second thought she unwraps him. He wears a white long-sleeved t-shirt, and a diaper. She places him on her chest. His heads rests on her heart. He places the blanket over him. He immediately stops moving. His eyes close, and he drifts off to sleep. She removes his hat. She carefully smoothes down his hair. Her eyes close for a moment. Her lips rest on his head. She presses them against his head. She breathes in, taking in his scent.

Tony breaks the silence. "This is your decision?"

She nods.

"Ok."

Ten minutes later both the baby, and Ziva are asleep. Tony snaps a picture of them, with his phone. He sends it to Abby. Ten seconds later his phone is vibrating.

"Hello?"

"Is that her final answer?"

"Yes," he whispers.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of everything."

"Don't go overboard. I don't want to overwhelm her."

"Good luck with keeping that from happening."

"Don't sound so excited."

"Why not? I get to go shopping for baby things. I love..."

"Control yourself."

"I can't make any promises. Does he have a name yet?"

"I don't think she has a one. I would ask, but she isn't awake."

"Tony, just because my eyes are closed, does not mean that I am asleep," Ziva warns.

"Sorry, I should not assume things. Since you are awake, Abby wants to know if you have a name picked out."

"No. I don't have a name picked out. You can choose."

"You're talking to me?" Tony clarifies.

"You did deliver him, that counts for something."

"I can name him anything that I want?"

"As long as it's not Brutus?"

"Brutus is a great mascot."

"He is not a mascot. He's a baby."

"I am glad that you asked, because I am prepared. I studied up, on the one in a million chance that I would get this opportunity. I have gone through thousands of names. I read the name book, from cover to cover, and I was able to come up with two. A first, and a middle name. Or a name, and a back up name, in case you didn't like the first one."

"What kind of names did you come up with? Anthony?

"Nope, that didn't even make the list. There are a lot of names, with a lot of different spellings, and origins, and histories, but I came up with two that I thought that you would like."

"Are you going to toot your own horn all day, or are you going to tell me what they are?"

"Ethan Malachi."

"Are you still on the phone with Abby?" Ziva questions.

"I think he put me on speaker," Abby comments.

"You chose two Hebrew names?"

"Yes, Ziva I know that they are Hebrew. I also know what they mean. If you hate it, it's ok. You ultimately get to make the decision."

"Did I say that I disliked them?"

"No."

"I will probably regret this later, when the haze of the pain medication wears off, but Tony I am impressed."

"Impressed that I put that much thought into it, or..."

"Impressed enough, to call him that."


	26. For Keeps

He looks over at the woman sitting next to him. She leans forward.

"I wouldn't try it," Tony warns.

"She's asleep."

Tony looks at Ziva. She sleeps peacefully, with baby Ethan asleep on her chest.

"I tried to cover him back up, earlier. I thought that she was going to rip my arm off. It's better to wake her up, before you try to touch him. Her ninja reflexes are more sensitive than spidey senses. Just say her name, she'll wake up."

"Are you sure?"

"Watch," he smiles like a chesire cat. "Once upon a time there was an NCIS agent. She often got American idioms, and pop culture references wrong. And her name was... Ziva."

Her eyes don't open. "Tony why are you talking about me again?"

"There is someone here to see you," he informs her.

"Tell them to go away," she insists.

"It's not the nurse, or the doctor. You were very clear with them that you did not want to be bothered, unless you had to be."

"Is it McGee?"

"No, just open your eyes."

Ziva opens her eyes. She looks at Abby.

"Why didn't you just say that it was Abby?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

"So why were the two of you talking about me?"

"She wanted to see him, but I told her not to touch you, or him. I was going on what I have learned, it's better just to say your name, and wake you up."

"Yes, that is true."

She yawns. She lifts the baby off her chest, and lays him on top of her legs. She places his blanket underneath him, quickly wrapping him up, like a burrito. Abby reaches for him. Ziva carefully places him in Abby's arms. Abby quickly returns to her seat. She looks at the sweet, sleeping baby.

"I heard that he has hair."

"Lot of it."

Abby looks at his tiny face, "He looks just like you, and I'm not just saying that. Your nose, and lips..."

"The ears, they are not mine," she comments.

"I talked to the nurse while you were getting your beauty rest. She said that you're going to get to go home, first thing tomorrow."

"It's about time."

"Are you sure that you are ready for that?" he questions.

"I don't have much of a choice."

Abby holds the little boy. She looks at Tony. He nods understandingly, and excuses himself. Abby stares at her, willing her to talk.

"What?"

"How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Tell me how you really are. What are you really feeling right now?"

"I don't even know where to start."

"At the beginning," Abby suggests.

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"That I won't be able to love him enough, that I will project some sort of terrible feelings onto him. That I will screw him up so badly, that he will not be able to be fixed."

"So it's as much about you, as it is everything else?"

"Yes."

"So why are you keeping him, then?"

"You wouldn't understand, I don't even know that I understand."

"Try me?"

"We were there, in that clinic, and I looked at him, and everything changed. I have never been so terrified in my entire life. The whole pregnancy, I just wanted it over with. I just wanted him out of me. When he came out, he wasn't breathing, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. I just wanted him to be ok. And then he was lying there, just looking at me. I thought that when I saw him, that I would feel nothing. I thought I would feel numb. I didn't think that it was possible for me to feel anything for him. But he looked at me, and I didn't feel numb anymore. I don't know what I felt. I just wanted to hold him."

"You do not have to explain that. I understand that."

"You understand what?"

"That a mother's love is unconditional. You love him. You never intended to. You didn't think that it was possible, but... I knew that it was."

"You didn't think I would be able to give him up?"

"You see the bad things that people have done. I see the good in people."

Ziva looks at the sleeping baby. Abby smiles. She rises from her chair, and slips the baby back into Ziva's arms. Ziva stares at his tiny, angelic face.

"How can I love him?"

"How could you not?"

"Everything I know..."

"It means nothing. You cannot see into the future."

"But I know that..."

"Sometimes we have to ignore the things that we know. Sometimes we take a look at someone, and we realize that we know nothing about them. We look at them, and realize that we had drawn conclusions, based on circumstance, and not fact. The bottom line is, he is your baby. You carried him inside you, for months. You gave birth to him. You gave life to him. Your blood runs through his veins. That means something. To you that means something, even though you wish it didn't. I know that you wanted to give him up. You thought that was best for him."

"Do you think that I am making a mistake? Do you think that it is selfish to keep him? To not want to give him to someone else?"

"How is that selfish? How is it selfish to want your own child? How is it selfish, or wrong, to love your own child? Ziva it's not."

"How do you know?"

"You look at all of the evidence, and you see things one way. Tony he looks at the same evidence, and he sees them differently. Sometimes you're right, sometimes he's right. Sometimes neither of you are right."

"What is your point?"

"It doesn't matter who's right, because in the end you achieve your goal."

"This is different."

"I know that."

"What if this is a mistake? What if this is just some sort of hormonal reaction, and I don't..."

"Stop. What do you see when you look at him?"

Ziva stares at the sleeping baby. She pulls the cap off his head.

"An innocent baby, who has done nothing wrong."

"So do you see his face?"

"Whose?"

"Your rapist, do you see his face, when you look at him? At your son?"

Ziva looks at Abby in bewilderment. After a few moments she looks at the baby in her arms. She blinks away the tears. Abby breaks the silence.

"Do you?"

"No," Ziva shakes her head.

"What do you see?"

"My son."

"Exactly."


	27. Just Listen

Tears fall as she presses her lips against his forehead. She smells his head, and plants a kiss on his forehead. He was a gorgeous, perfect baby. His head was round. He had hair, and symmetrical features. He had chubby cheeks, and a tiny nose. His eyes flutter open for a moment. His hand rests on his cheek.

"Do you know whose baby is the most beautiful, in the world?"

Ziva shakes her head.

"It's always going to be yours. No matter what, it will always be yours. You will look at other peoples children, but yours will always be the most beautiful, because he's yours."

"Why does this have to be so hard? Why am I so afraid?"

"Because your whole life, love has had a price. You have always had to prove yourself, to earn love. You don't have to earn his love. He loves you, no matter what. It is an unconditional love."

"Do you really think that I can do this?"

"You can do anything that you set your mind to, you always have."

"This is completely different."

"It's scary, and it's new, and you're going to do fine."

"I am a mess. I feel completely overwhelmed."

"You are going to need help, and that is ok."

"How can you be so sure that everything is going to work out?"

"I just know."

"You have scientific evidence?"

"Something much more powerful."

"And what is that?"

"I have faith."

"In what?"

"In you."

"I don't know what I am doing."

"A few months ago, you told me that you could never love him. You proved yourself wrong, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Sometimes you're wrong."

A shadow in the doorway chimes in, "Rule fifty-one," he comments.

"I'll give you two a moment," Abby smiles.

Gibbs enters the room. He takes the seat that Abby vacated. He stares at Ziva.

"Talk to me, Ziva."

"I am tired of talking. I don't want to talk anymore. I just..."

"Then just listen."

"Is this where you lecture me, and tell me that I am making a mistake?"

"No."

"That I am not qualified to do this? You are going to question how I am going to do this, and my job."

"Nope."

"So..."

"Just listen," he insists.

"Ok."

"You are always going to wonder if you are doing the right thing. You are always going to question whether or not you made the right decision for you child. That never goes away. As long as you are a parent, you will ask yourself that. It is part of the job. You will worry about your child, when you are away from him, and even when he is in the next room. You will wake up in the middle of the night, in a panic, that he's stopped breathing. You will call your babysitter, like a basket-case, ten times, the first day you leave him.  
He will ask you questions, and you won't always have the answers. He'll fall, and stumble, and you'll want to catch him every time, but you can't. He is going to do things that you don't always like. Maybe he'll join the Marines, or a band. Maybe he'll tell you he doesn't want to college, that he wants to find himself. It is never going to be an easy job. As long as you live you will worry about him. Even when he is grown, and on his own. You will always worry about his safety, about his happiness. You will wonder if you should have made different choices. He will get angry with you, and make you feel like the worst person in the world. He will make you angry, and crazy. You'll wait up for him to come home. You will do a lot of things. You will be willing to lay down your life for his, be willing to kill for him. But, you will never regret having him. You will never for a second, wish that you could take it all back, because no matter how much it hurts, it's how you got him."

"What's the secret? How will I get through it?

He smiles. "No matter what, you love him. You love him through it all."

"And if I can't."

"You will."

"How do you know?"

"I already see you changing. You might not see it, but I do."

"It's scary..." she admits.

"How much you already love him, even though you just met him?"

"I have never felt as strongly towards anyone."

"Part of it is genetic, but mostly, it's just that you are responsible for his life."

"How will I know that I have succeeded?"

"One day you'll wake up, and he won't need you anymore. He'll be able to take care of himself. You'll look at him, and instead of seeing a boy, you'll see a man."

"What if he isn't a good man?"

"He will be."

"What if..."

"The sins of the father, are not the sins of the son."

"He needs a father. I don't mean someone who shares half of his DNA. I don't want that. I know what it's like to grow up without a father. I mean I had a father, but... he was never around. He was always busy doing anything else. I want to give him more than I had."

"You will."

"Why does everyone seem to know things that I don't, today?"

"Abby always knows things that we don't. She's smarter than all of us. Tony, he just... he has a gift. He is never at a loss for words. Sometimes he says the wrong things, but when it really matters, he gets it right."

"And you?"

"You know how easily life can change. You can change with it, or you can get stuck."

"Meaning?"

"Don't get stuck. The past, is a terrible place to be, alone."

"Do you still miss them?"

"Only every day of my life. Every breath I take, I miss them. Losing a wife, that is one thing. I am not saying that I could have ever gotten over that, but..."

She looks at him. She sees the tears forming in his eyes. She had never seen him like this. He finishes his thought.

"No parent should ever have to know what it's like, to bury their own child. It is not natural. It is a feeling that I would not wish on even my greatest enemy."


	28. For You, I Would

He watches her, as she packs up her things. He holds the sleeping baby in one arm. He balances a clipboard on his lap.

"Are you done with these?" he questions her.

"Yes."

"Are you almost ready to go?"

"I'm going to take a quick shower before we go," she reveals.

"Ok."

"Will you be ok, if I leave him with you, for a few minutes?"

"I promise I won't lose him."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what again?"

"Being an overprotective mama bear. Just relax, a little bit."

"Ok," she agrees as she retreats to the bathroom. She closes the door behind herself.

He looks at the sleeping baby. He smiles.

"You sure are a handsome guy."

The baby ignores him. Tony flips through the forms, making sure that Ziva hasn't forgotten to fill anything out. He stumbles onto the birth certificate, and the blank space. He looks at the innocent, sleeping baby, and then to the closed door.

There was nothing he wouldn't do for her. Anything she asked, he would do for her. But she wouldn't ask him. His eyes drift back to the sleeping baby. Filling out a piece of paper, didn't make it true, but... it made the truth... he stops his thought process. He fills out his name, and signs the back.

Someone knocks on the door. He looks up, and sees the nurse standing in the doorway. She enters the room.

"Are those all filled out?" she questions, pointing to the paperwork.

He smiles, "Yep, you can have them."

She takes the clipboard, "Thanks."

He hears the shower turn off, and he places the baby in the carseat that sits on the bed. He successfully straps him in. He studies his work.

"Let's hope I did that right. Maybe your mom will know."

He hears footsteps. He turns around, and finds Ziva staring at him. She wears a t-shirt, and a pair of cargo pants. Her wet hair is pulled back, off her face.

"What will I know?" she questions.

He points to the carseat, "Did I strap him in right?"

She scrutinizes the carseat, "Do you really think that I have any experience with this? I'm lucky to know as much as you do."

"I disagree, I barely know which end of the baby goes up."

"I am sure that the nurse will tell us, if it's wrong."

"Yeah."

Hours later they reach her apartment. He insists on staying with her. Hours later she wakes up, in her bed. She looks around the room. She finds only darkness. She climbs out of bed. She wonders into the next room. She finds Tony sitting on her couch, holding the baby.

"How long was I asleep?" she inquires.

"Less than an hour."

"Is he ok?"

"Yeah."

"Why are you holding him?"

"He gets upset when I put him down."

"I can't hold him all night."

"I'll hold him."

"You're staying all night?"

"You have barely slept in the last three days, do you really think that I am going to leave you alone with a new baby."

"I can..."

"You can, but you are not going to. I am going to stay with you, for a day or two, until you settle into a routine."

"I am too tired to argue." She looks around the room.

"What are you looking for?"

"The diaper bag."

"Why? What do you need?"

"A clean onesie."

"What's wrong with the one he's wearing?"

"It has spit up on it."

"He's a man who likes to wear what he eats. If you change his clothes every time he eats, you're going to run out of clean clothes."

"Where is the diaper bag?"

"On the kitchen table. Why do you need the bag? There are clean onesies sitting right here, on the coffee table."

"They are too big."

"I doubt that all of them are too big."

She rolls her eyes, and unzips the bag. She begins digging though it. Her finger hits a piece of paper. She pulls it out. She takes a moment to read it. She realizes it's the baby's birth certificate. She checks it to make sure that everything is right on it.

"Ziva? Did you get lost over there?"

"Did you look at the birth certificate?"

"Why? Is something wrong with it?"

She flips it over. She instantly recognizes her partners signature.

"You signed it."

"Zi..."

"Why would you sign it? Why would you..."

"Are you mad?"

"Did I say that I was?"

"Your tone did."

"I am just curious why you would put your name on his birth certificate."

"No kid should ever have to have a blank space under father, on their birth certificate."

"Tony..."

"I'm sorry. I overstepped my bounds."

"I just..."

"Do you want me to go get it fixed?"

"I didn't say that."

She sinks into the seat next to him, on the couch. She stares at him, as he holds her baby. She furrows her brow in confusion.

"Why would you want to do that? If something happens to me you would..."

"I know."

"And it's ok?"

"I would do anything for you. I've always got your back, no matter what. I know I'm not his father, I'm not even that great of a role model, but what other guy is in his life? I'm not perfect, I know that. I'm not proposing that I try to be his father, but..."

"Do you want to be?"


	29. Conversations

She studies his facial expression. His lips tighten into one of his classic smiles.

"Would you be upset, if I said that I did?"

"I... why would you want to be?"

"No one else is volunteering."

"You didn't answer my question."

"If it's ok with you."

"But why?"

"I don't think that you would understand."

"There are a lot of things that I do not understand, but I would like if you would explain."

"There are a lot of things that I would do, for a lot of people, and you're at the top of the list. You are important to me, and he is an extension of you, so he's important to me too."

"Oh."

"You should go back to bed, for a little while. He isn't due to eat for another forty minutes. Try to get some rest, he'll probably be up all night."

"Why are you so concerned?"

"You'll be up all night too."

"I can function with no sleep."

"But have you ever tried to do it, with a newborn baby, a painful set of stitches, and no pain meds? I think not."

"Who are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"When did you become so concerned with my well-being?"

"When you stopped," he replies.

"I..."

"Zi, you're tired. Get some sleep."

"I am fine."

"You don't have to try to be a hero. Just get some rest."

"No, you don't understand."

"How could I? You never open up to me."

"I can't sleep. I try, but... I wake up, and I feel like I can't breathe."

"What do you mean?"

"I wake up in a cold sweat and..."

"Zi, what's going on?"

"I am afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"I..." she looks at the baby he's holding. She shrugs, "I guess that I am afraid that I will wake up, and he'll have stopped breathing, or..."

"He's fine."

"I know that, but I still... I still can't shake the feeling that something isn't right."

"Why?"

"I keep having terrible dreams."

"About?"

"Him."

"I have dreamt about me waking up, and not being able to find him. Or I wake up, and I go over to his basinet, and I pull off the blanket, and it's empty. Or I hear him crying, but I can't find him."

"I am not expert, but I think that's normal."

"Normal? Normal how?"

"You're new at this. You're feel anxious about this situation."

"What situation?"

"Being entirely responsible for another human being."

"I..."

"He's small, and fragile, and he is completely dependant on you, for everything. I can understand how that would be scary."

"Oh..."

"You are scared?"

"Yes," she nods.

"That's ok."

"No, it's not ok. I am not afraid of anything. I should not be afraid of a baby."

He smiles, "Why not?"

"He can't do anything to me. He doesn't have teeth, or..."

"He's not someone with a weapon that you can disarm. You don't know how he thinks, or what he needs, and that is scary. He's not something you can defeat. He is someone you have to figure out."

"What if I can't do this?"

"You will."

"What if I can't?"

"Who said that you had to?"

"Who else is going to do it?"

"I'll help you," he offers.

"You'll help? You are not a fan of babies."

"I'm a fan of this one."

"I am not asking you to..."

He cuts her off, "I would never expect you to."

"I do not expect you to."

"Ziva I want to help you."

"I..."

"Let me rephrase that, I am going to help you, there is no point in arguing."

"Why?"

"Because I want to."

"Yes, but why?"

"Because you need me to."

She doesn't argue.

"And that upsets you. You hate that you need help. You are not used to needing anyone's help, especially not mine."

"But..."

"It's ok," he reassures her.

She yawns. She smiles, and carefully hands the baby to her. She studies the baby, as he sleeps.

"He looks like you."

"Yes," she agrees.

"You seem disappointed. Why? Considering the alternative?"

"I do not want him to be like me."

"Why not?"

She studies the baby. "I don't want him to make the same choices that I have made."

"You don't want him to miss the opportunities that you have."


	30. The Mama Bear, And The Angel

She opens her eyes. The room around her sounds too quiet. She sits up in bed. She swings her feet over the edge of the bed, and steps onto the floor. She takes two steps, stopping at the basinet. She looks inside. Her pulse quickens, and her airways constrict. The feeling of panic sets in. She reaches for her gun.

She moves away from the empty basinet, towards her closed door. She twists the knob, and pulls door towards her. She lingers in the doorway. She spots someone sitting on her couch. She instantly realizes that the back of the head she is staring at, is not Tony's. She cocks the gun, and points it at his head.

He hears the gun cock. He sighs. "Ziva," he says calmly, "put the gun down, it's just me."

She puts the gun aside. She moves towards the couch. She stops in front of him. She finds him sitting on her couch, holding her baby.

He looks up at her. He finds a look of fury staring back at him. He swallows hard. She shakes her head.

"Never, ever do that again," she warns.

"He was starting to wake up, I didn't want him to wake you up."

"What are you doing here? Where is Tony?"

"He went home, to get a shower, and bring back something to eat."

"What were you thinking?"

"I guess that I wasn't."

"Obviously. Would you take a cub, from a sleeping bear?"

"No."

"The same principle applies here. Do not take a child out of the room, that his mother is sleeping in."

"Understood."

"Good."

"It's probably a good thing that Tony replaced your bullets with blanks."

"When did he do that?"

"When you were in the hospital."

"Why would he do that?"

"In case this sort of thing happened."

"Have you ever held a baby before?"

"Yes. I wouldn't have picked him up, if I hadn't."

"Ok."

She stares at the sleeping baby. McGee smiles. He holds the baby out her.

"It's ok," she tells him.

He nods, and cradles the sleeping baby close to him.

"Do you want kids, McGee?"

"Sure, one day. Why?"

"Just wondering."

"Why?"

"I don't know," she shrugs.

"He looks so peaceful," McGee stares at the little boy's tiny face, as he sleeps.

"Yes," Ziva admits.

"He kind of looks like an angel."

"Yes," she agrees.

"You're going to do great."

"Why does everyone keep telling me that? I have no idea what I'm doing. I do not even know why I am doing this. I just..."

"You're doing it, because regardless of anything else, he is your child."

"What if that is not enough."

"You're having doubts?"

She shrugs.

"It's ok if you are."

"Is it?"

"Yes. This has to be overwhelming. Bringing a baby home. A baby who depends on you. A baby who..."

She cuts him off, "Should not exist?"

"That doesn't matter. He's here now."

"And I don't think that I can do this."

"What do you mean?"

"Every fiber of my being, it tells me that I want to, but it also screams that I can't."

"So tell it to shut up."

"I don't know how."

"I guess that you'll have to learn."

"I don't know if I want to."

"What do you mean?"

"I should want to be here with him. I should want to sit here, and just stare at him, while he sleeps, but I don't. I just want to get back to work. I want to get back to my life. I am afraid that..."

"You're going to resent him? Because no he's here, and everything has changed?"

"Yes."

"And you don't know who you are, anymore?"

"No. I feel myself slipping away. I don't know who I am, or what I want. I don't even know where to start. I just want my life to be normal. Just once, I want things to be easy, to be normal."

"Why are you questioning yourself, and what you believe?"

"Because, he has changed everything. He has changed what I believe."

"You don't want to do this?"

"I don't think that I should. I love him, and I want to give him everything that I possibly can, I just don't think that I can do that, if I am his mother."

"Why can't you?"

"I feel like I've already given up too much of myself, for him. I..."

"I won't tell you to do this. I've never been in your situation, so I can't offer any advice from personal experience."

"But?"

"Can you picture your life without him? Are you ok with never seeing him grow up? Are you ok with someone else raising him. Are you really alright with him calling someone else, 'mom'? Can you let him go?"

She stares at the sleeping baby. McGee was right, he did look like an angel. An angel. Her angel. Someone sent here, to save her. He was here, to bring her back to life. No matter how long, and treacherous the journey was, it was one that she had to make. It was never going to be easy, but she was not willing to let him go. She had dreams, and for some reason, now they all included him.

"No," she admits.

"I didn't think so," he offers the baby to her.

"Why are you offering him up?"

"You're... um... leaking," he points.

She looks down, at her shirt. She finds it soaked. She feels her cheeks burn in embarrassment, as she takes the baby from him. She leaves the room, and goes into her bedroom, with Ethan in her arms.


	31. Walking Away

He opens the door to the apartment, and sits the bags of take out, on the counter. He looks in the living room, and finds that McGee is gone. He walks through the living room, into the bedroom. He finds Ethan sleeping. He looks around the room, and doesn't see Ziva. He looks in the bathroom, and finds nothing.

"Ziva? Where are you?" he calls out.

He gets no response. He flips on the bedroom light. He finds an envelope sitting on her bedside stand. It's addressed to him. He sits down on the bed, and opens the envelope. He unfolds the note, and begins reading.

_Tony,_

_I can't do this. I want to, but he deserves more than me. He deserves more than I can ever give him. I don't know how to give him all of the things that he needs. Please understand. I don't ever want him to think that I resent him. I don't know how to keep him safe, or happy. I am too damaged, to be a good mother to him. Please tell him that I'm sorry._

_Ziva._

He folds up the note, and goes into her closet. He finds that it's not empty. Instead he finds that some of her clothes are missing, and her suitcase is gone. He folds up the note, and pulls out his phone.

"McGee."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at home, why?"

"I told you to stay with her."

"She sent me home. She said that she was fine."

"McGee I am going to kill you."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"She's gone."

"She's gone? What do you mean she's gone?"

"She left."

"You're overreacting. Maybe she just took the baby outside, for some fresh air. I'm sure that..."

Tony cuts him off, "The baby is here, asleep. She is gone. She took a bag. She took her gun."

"I'm sorry."

"I need you to get a trace on her cell phone."

"If she left she probably has it turned off."

"McGee, do it!"

"Ok," McGee sits down at his computer.

She sits on a bench, and watches as the sun begins to sit. She says nothing, as a man sits down next to her. She looks over at him, for a minute. She opens her mouth to speak, but he shakes his head.

"I don't want to hear it," he warns.

She nods.

"I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen."

She nods again.

"Ziva I don't know what you're thinking right now. I don't know what is going through you're head. I can imagine that you're scared."

She nods.

"You're scared, and you're unsure of what you're doing. You're confused, and the only thing you know how to do, is walk away. You can't walk away from this. I can't say that I know how hard it is for you, because I don't, but I know that it is hard. I know that it is never going to be easy. I know you just want to run away. You want to go back in time. But you can't."

"I..."

"You have to let the past go."

"I can't do this. Gibbs, I thought that I could. I thought that I could do this, but I can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm not good enough. He needs someone better than me. I was lying in the hospital, and I just kept thinking how I couldn't wait to come back to work. I love my job. I should have been thinking about him, not my job. He should be my number one priority, but I don't know if I can do that. I don't know if I can give that much of myself up, for him. I don't know if I want to. I am afraid that if I do I will resent him, I'll hate him. No child deserves that."

"What are you really afraid of?"

"That I will make the wrong decisions. That somehow I will turn him into a monster. I just feel like I can't love him enough. What if he doesn't feel loved? Then he'll turn into..." she begins to hyperventilate.

"Ok, then walk away. If you don't want to do this, just walk away."

She looks at him questioningly.

"Ziva, I've never known you to be a quitter, but if you want to be, then go ahead. Quit. I think that you've come too far to quit now, but it's your decision. It is your choice. I won't try to convince you to come back. I won't try to convince you that you're wrong. I just want you to know, once you're gone, there is no coming back. If you go, if you decide you're done, then that is it. You have to stick with whatever decision you make."

"What if I'm wrong?"

"That's too bad."

"Why are you being so harsh?"

"This isn't a job we're talking about, Ziva. Jobs, they come and go. We're talking about your child. A life, that you created. A child you brought into this world. You're in or you're out. You can't come back and fourth, and expect for him to turn out ok."

"You think that leaving would be a mistake?"

"What I think doesn't matter."

"I am asking."

"It would be the biggest mistake that you've ever made. To walk away from your child, that is the biggest mistake you could ever make."

"Why are you here? Why are you wasting your time talking to me? Why do you care?"

"I would hate to see you go. I would hate for you to leave, like this. Do you really want to leave Tony to pick up the pieces?"

"I don't know what I want anymore."

"If you want him to be healthy, and happy, then you need to stay. If you leave, he's always going to wonder. If you abandon him, he's going to spend the rest of his life wondering why he wasn't good enough. What did he do that was so bad, that you had to walk away? He'll think that he is a monster, and maybe, he'll even become one."

"Don't say that."

"It's the truth."

She wipes the tears from her cheeks. She stares at him, in silence. He understood her. He knew what she would do, before she even knew.


	32. Come Home

"Just be honest, feel what you're feeling. It's ok to be scared, and confused. It's ok to say what you're thinking."

"I don't think that I can do this, on my own. I would like to believe that I could, but I can't. I'm afraid. I am afraid that I'm going to be alone with him, and..."

"You're afraid that you're going to hurt him?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I am capable of, anymore. When I get stressed sometimes I walk in my sleep. I don't know what I'm even doing. I could..."

"What do you want? Tell me what do you want."

"I just want to go home."

"Why?"

"He's probably awake now. He'll be hungry soon, and I won't be there. He'll cry, and..."

"And?"

"I hate when he cries. I feel helpless. I would rather be shot at, than listen to him cry."

"You miss him?"

"How can I miss him? I haven't even been gone an hour. I saw Tony park the car, and I went down the stairs, so he wouldn't see me. I didn't want him to be alone..."

"Why are you so afraid that you're going to screw up?"

"Because I don't know what I'm doing."

"You seem to be doing alright, to me."

"How can you say that?"

"Because you are."

"I'm ready to go home now."

"Ok."

She arrives home, and finds Tony waiting on her. She expects a lecture from him. She expects for him to yell at her, and tell her how irresponsible, and stupid she's been. Instead, he just hands her the baby, and smiles.

"There's your mommy."

Ziva looks at the sleeping baby. He was clearly unfazed. He didn't need her. "Hi, sleepy boy," she coos. His eyes pop open, and look at her. She expects them to flutter shut, but they don't. He just stares at her.

Hours later she wakes up in her bed. She looks over, into the basinet, Ethan sleeps peacefully. How had they gotten in her room? She had fallen asleep on the couch, with him. Did she walk him in here, in her sleep. A voice breaks her train of thought.

"Go back to sleep," he says softly.

She looks over in the corner of the room. She finds Tony sitting in a chair.

"How did we get in here?" she questions.

"I brought you in here."

"Oh."

"You know that I'm not going to leave you to go anywhere, in the near future, right?"

"You don't trust me?"

"I don't trust the voices in your head."

"Neither do I," she admits.

"Try and get some rest," he begs.

"You don't have to sleep in the chair."

"Who said anything about sleep?"

"Did you try the couch?"

"Your couch is lumpy, and I can't hear him very well, from in there."

"You can't get any sleep in the chair."

"You want me to sleep on the floor?"

"I'd probably step on you."

"The bathtub?"

"Why don't you sleep right there," she points to the empty spot, next to her, in the bed.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Tony, I am too tired to care."

"Ok," he agrees.

He slides into the bed next to her. She hands him an extra pillow, knowing he needs three to sleep.

"Thanks."

"Good night," she murmurs.

"Ziva, don't kick me in your sleep."

"You know I can't make any promises."

"Night."

She rolls away from him, onto the other side. She faces the basinet. She closes her eyes. He waits until he's sure that she's asleep, before he closes his eyes. He makes sure to stay on his side. He knows that he has a narrow window of opportunity to fall asleep, before she begins snoring.

He rolls out of bed, the instant Ethan's breathing starts to change. He scoops him out of his basinet, before he can furrow his brow, and begin to cry. He holds the sleepy baby in his arms. Ethan stares up at him, silently. He stares back. He feels a hand on his shoulder. He slowly turns around. He finds Ziva. She looks at him, and yawns. She reaches for the baby, unwilling to argue. He sighs, and hands the baby to her.

Hours later he wakes up, but not to the sound of the baby. He wakes up to his partner, thrashing, in bed beside him. He wakes up enough to flip on the light. She is drenched in sweat.

"Ziva? Wake up," he contemplates touching her. She doesn't wake to the sound of his voice, this time. He squeezes her hand. He speaks softly, and calmly, "Ziva, it's just you, and me and the baby. Everyone is fine. You're ok, you're just having a bad dream. I need you to wake up."

She rolls towards him. Her eyes finally open. She struggles to catch her breath, as she looks at him.

"Calm down," he muses.

She takes several deep breaths. She looks at him, in horror. He waits for her, but she remains quiet. Finally he breaks the silence.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No."

"Let me rephrase that, Ziva, tell me about your dream."

"I..."

_She walks into the bathroom. She finds a dark haired woman, kneeling next to her bathtub. She moves closer. She finds a smiling boy inside the tub. He has big, bright eyes, and dark hair. He plays with a boat in the tub. The woman, who still has her backside to Ziva, leans forward. The little boy looks up at her. All of a sudden the woman reaches into the tub, and holds the boy under. Ziva grabs her arm._

_"What are you doing?"_

_Finally the woman turns to where Ziva can see her face. She sees her own face. "I don't know, you tell me," she answers._

Tony looks at her. He says nothing, unsure of the right thing to say. She stares into his eyes, searching for an answer, for something to tell her that is never going to happen.

"Say something," she begs him.

"Are you afraid that you're going to hurt him?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I could do. I just know that I shouldn't be afraid to be left alone with my own child."

"No one is going to leave you alone. I promise."

"You can't promise that. You can't be here every second of every day, to protect him, from me. You shouldn't have to be."

"If that's what it takes to put your mind at ease, then I will."

"You can't do that. It's not like you can move in, and keep an eye on me, on him, until he is grown."

"I will, if you need me too."

"But..."

"I would do anything you needed me to. Anything you asked me to."

"I would never ask you to do that."

"Why don't we just get through tonight? Take this one day at a time?"

"I can't. Do you really trust me? Do you trust me enough to leave me alone with him?"

"No."

"You should."

"But I can't."

"What happens if you go to the store one day for diapers, and you come back and..."

"That's not going to happen."

"But it could."

"I'm not going to leave you alone."

"I..."

"Ziva you're not going to hurt him. Do you want to hurt him?"

"No, but I am afraid that I will."

"It's the hormones. It will go away soon."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then you will get help."

"I..."

"I will make sure of it. Please, go back to sleep. You need some rest. Being sleep deprived does not help you any."

"Ok," she settles back in.


	33. Waking Up

She wakes up, and looks around the room. She finds it empty. She listens closely, but hears nothing. She throws back the covers and gets out of bed. As she heads for the bedroom door she yawns. She pushes hair out of her face, and turns the doorknob. She pushes the door open, and tiptoes into the living room. She looks down, and realizes that she's wearing Tony's t-shirt. A shirt he had left at her house.

It wasn't like it was dirty, or anything. She just liked it, for some reason. She couldn't even remember how long it had been, since he had left it. She just never felt like giving it back. It wasn't his usual white-shirt. Instead it was a navy blue t-shirt. It matched her navy, and white boxer shorts. Those were not his. They were men's shorts, but she had bought them. She had given up on finding women's pajamas that fit around her pregnant stomach, so she opted for men's instead. She ties the drawstring into a bow.

She takes a couple steps forward, and finds what she's looking for. She finds Tony. He lies, belly-up, on the couch, dead asleep. The baby lies on his chest, sleeping soundly. She stands back, and just looks at them, for a few moments. She reaches down, and lifts the camera off the coffee table, in front of the couch. She snaps a picture.

"That was unnecessary," Tony tells her.

"Go back to sleep."

"I was sleeping soundly until you woke me up."

"Then go back to sleep."

"I'm awake now. He'll be awake in the next ten minutes. You know how he eats."

"He's worse than you," she jabs, with a grin.

"It's important to stick to a schedule for meals. We get cranky when you don't."

"I know."

"Why are you awake? It's still early."

"I am always up early. Besides, I don't consider seven thirty early."

"No, you're crazy enough to consider it sleeping in."

"That's true."

"Ziva?"

"Huh?"

"I'm not trying to rush you, or anything, but shouldn't you start looking for a bigger apartment?"

"Maybe."

"You don't seem..."

"I'm not in a hurry."

"You're not?"

"No, why would I be?"

"I just assumed that having everyone in your personal space, all day would drive you crazy."

"I don't mind it."

"You don't?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"Really?"

"Until I was fifteen I shared a room with my sister."

"Why did you stop?"

"We shared a room by choice. When I was ten we moved to a house where we didn't have to share a bedroom, but we were just used to it by then."

"So what changed?"

"I nearly killed her, in my sleep, one night."

"Why?"

"I had just watched a movie about snakes, and I was certain that she was a snake that was trying to eat me."

"So the talking, and walking in your sleep, that's nothing new?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Last night you got up, and wandered over to the baby. You stood there a minute, and then went back to bed. I thought that you were awake, but I said something and you answered... what was it you said? Oh, yeah, 'Who but that boulder there?'. That's what you said."

"You're making things up."

"No. I'm not."

"I..."

He cuts her off, "I think that it's your turn."

"Why," she looks down, at her shirt, "Am I leaking again?"

"No, it's him this time."

"What do you mean?"

"He needs changed."

"You don't want to do it?"

"You need the practice."

"It's your turn."

"It's been my turn the last three times. Why don't you like changing diapers?"

"I wasn't aware that anyone liked it."

"Seriously..."

"I..." she trails off.

"You what?"

"You're better at it."

"Me? You think that I'm better at it?"

"Yes."

"How do you figure?"

"He doesn't cry when you do it."

"That doesn't mean that I do it better."

"And he doesn't pee on you, either."

"What are you so upset about that for? It was just a little drop. It's not like it got in your face, or anything. You got one single drop, on your hand."

"I'm still traumatized by that."

"Speaking of traumatized, your phone rang while you were sleeping."

"What does that have to do with traumatized?"

"It was Eli."

"What did he want?"

"How would I know?"

"Didn't you talk to him?"

"No. Why would I?"

"I just assumed that with your lack of personal boundaries that you would have answered my phone."

"Ziva, I'm not your secretary. I figured that if it was really important that he would call you back."

"Did he?"

"Yes, twice."

"And you didn't answer it?"

"It's not my phone. You've been kind of moody the past couple of days, and I didn't want to answer it, and tick you off."

"Why didn't you come in, and wake you up?"

"Yeah, that's a good idea. As good of an idea as poking a sleeping bear while it's sleeping."

"You think that I would maul you? For waking me up?"

"I never know."

"Will you change him?"

"Why? It's not like you're actually planning on calling Eli back, are you?"

"Yes," she answers.

Tony looks down at the baby. He sits up, and puts the little guy into his arms. The baby looks up at him. Tony smiles, "That's not good. I think Hell just froze over, buddy."

"Don't call him buddy," she warns as she sifts through the pile on the kitchen table.

"Zi, what are you looking for?"

"My phone. Have you seen it?"

"It's on the counter, where you left it."

"I didn't leave it on the counter. I left it on the table."

"Ok, I left it on the counter."


	34. Long Distance Calls

"Shalom," the voice on the other end answers.

"I was just returning your call," Ziva admits.

"I called twice," he points out.

"I was sleeping."

"Since when do you sleep so late?"

"I usually don't. Thing have been kind of hectic, around here."

"Your partner is spending an awful lot of time at your apartment, isn't he? Shouldn't the two of you be working?"

"I would really prefer if you didn't keep tabs on me. I am an adult. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I do not need your help."

"I have no choice, Ziva. You rarely speak to me."

"I have my reasons."

"How else am I supposed to know what you're doing?"

"You could pick up the phone."

"You do not answer my calls."

"I have been busy."

"With what?"

"Does it matter?"

"Ziva, I have heard rumors."

"What rumors?"

"I heard that you have a baby. I have told my people that simply cannot be true. I would have known if you did. Then I received pictures."

"What are you talking about?"

"Pictures that no one wanted to show me."

"Of what?"

"Of you."

"Isn't that their job? To show you pictures of me? To show you what I am doing, at all times?"

"They were pictures of you. Incriminating pictures."

"Incriminating how?"

"You looked pregnant, very pregnant."

"And?"

"I was hoping for some explanation."

"You were hoping that it wasn't true?"

"I do not like to be made a fool of, especially by my own daughter."

"I see."

"So this is where you tell me it is all part of come undercover mission, right?"

"Is that what you want to hear?"

"I want the truth, Ziva."

"The truth? Since when have you ever cared about that?"

"Just tell me the truth."

"It was not part of an undercover mission."

"Then you were pregnant."

"Yes."

"Is there a reason you did not tell me?"

"I didn't want you to know," she admits.

"Why not?"

"I do not have to have a reason."

"But you do."

"It is complicated."

"Why wouldn't you want me to know?"

"I was not planning on keeping it."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Like I said, it is complicated."

"How complicated can it be?"

"It doesn't matter."

"So you were pregnant," he tries to clarify.

"Yes."

"And now you have a baby?"

"Yes."

"Were you ever planning on telling me?"

"Why would I have to tell you. You have me under surveillance, apparently. You should know all of this, without having to ask."

"You feel as if I have invaded your privacy?"

"Yes. I am no longer with Mossad. What I do, is none of your business, anymore."

"I have no choice. You do not share your life with me."

"And that is my choice, you should respect it."

"Tell me, is Tony the father?"

"Yes," she lies.

"That is why you did not want me to know?"

"Maybe," she shrugs.

"So are you going to tell me about this baby?"

"Tell you what?"

"Anything?"

"It is a boy."

"Does he have a name?"

"Ethan Malachi."

"A Hebrew name?"

"What did you expect?"

"I figured that you would choose something more American. You seem to try and distance yourself from your past, from your home."

"This is my home."

"For now."

"Forever."

"So do I get to meet him?"

"Meet who?"

"My grandson."

"I don't know."

"Ziva he is my grandson."

"Is that supposed to mean something, to me? A sense of family, has never meant anything to you, before."

"Please do not hold the mistakes of my past against me. Let me have second chance."

"A chance to do what? Fly out here once every five years, to see him? I do not want him to get attached to someone, that he cannot see, on a regular basis."

"So are you just going to cut me out of your life, forever? You are going to forbid me from seeing my own grandchild? My flesh, and blood?"

"I cannot trust you. I cannot count on you to keep your promises."

"Then I will make no promises. I am simply asking for a chance to meet him."

"Not now."

"Then, when?"

"A couple of weeks."

"A couple of weeks? Why? Is there something wrong with him?"

"No. There is nothing wrong with him."

"Then why do you want me to wait a couple of weeks?"

"I do not really feel like having visitors right now."

"Fair enough," he agrees.


	35. Jello, and Flowers

When she steps out of the bathroom, after her shower, she wears a look of defeat. She wanders into the living room, and finds Tony holding the baby. He immediately notices the look.

"What is that look for?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He looks around the room, "Tell you what?"

"How terrible I look."

"You just got done having a baby."

"That is no excuse."

'"What are you even talking about?"

"I jiggle."

"You jiggle? What are you talking about?"

"My stomach is like a bowl full of jello."

"You just had a baby. Give it some time. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"I think that I need to go for a run."

"Don't to turn into so crazy person, with an obsession over your body. Things change. You are going to have to deal with that."

"I do not want to deal with it. I am not ok with the way that I look right now. I look like I'm still pregnant. Why didn't you tell me?"

"There is no way for me to win at this."

"Do you think that I still look pregnant?" she wonders.

He rolls his eyes. She rolls up her shirt, exposing her stomach.

"Do you?"

"No, Ziva, I don't. I think that you're being crazy."

"I don't like it."

"Then go for a run."

"You'll say that I am a crazy person."

"I already do. And, since when do you care what I think?"

"I don't want to go crazy."

"Ziva, if it would make you feel better, then go for a run. Just don't over do it."

"Are you sure?"

"No, but if that is what you need to do, then I will support you."

"You have been far to supportive lately."

"Would you prefer that I be critical?"

"Maybe."

"I do not think that you need to go for a run, right now. I think that if you are feeling self-conscious about your body it would be better to go for a walk. You did just have a baby. You need to give yourself time to heal. Maybe you should ease into things. You can't go full force, right away."

"I'll be fine."

"Really? I delivered him, remember?"

"I remember."

"I saw the tear. Maybe you haven't seen it."

"I have seen it."

"Not like I have. Maybe you should take a mirror, and look at it."

"Don't be disgusting."

"I'm not trying to be. I am serious. Take a look at it, and then tell me that you think it's ok to go for a run, and risk slowing down the healing process."

"I am just going to go a couple of blocks," she insists.

"Fine," he throws his hands up, in defeat.

"Are you sure that you can watch him?"

"Watch him, do what?"

"Keep an eye on him?"

"Sure. We get along great, you know. I watch T.V., and he sleeps in my arms. It's a great relationship."

"I am leaving now."

"If you're not back in twenty minutes I am sending the police to escort you home."

"Fine," she rolls her eyes as she leaves the apartment.

Eighteen minutes later she returns, drenched in sweat, panting. She eases herself onto the couch, next to Tony. He gets up, and places the baby in his basinet. He goes into the kitchen, and grabs a bottle of water. He hands it to her.

She takes it from him, and gulps it down. She tosses the empty bottle onto the floor. He reclaims his spot on the couch. She stretches her legs out, over top of him. He slips off her shoes, they fall to the floor.

"I am not taking your socks of, they're disgusting."

"I hate when you're right," she tells him.

"Really? Could you repeat that?"

"You were right. That was a bad idea."

"Because?"

"I did not ease back into it. I ran as fast, and as hard as I could."

"And?"

"Now every muscle fiber in my body is screaming at me."

"And you need another shower."

"And it made me feel worse."

"Because?"

"I am not as in shape as I used to be."

"You just had a baby."

"I was in shape when I was pregnant."

"And then you pushed a watermelon through a whole the size of a ballpoint pen."

"Can you help me?"

"Help you what?"

"Get up."

"Get up?"

"I want to go take a shower."

"And you can't get up?"

"It hurts," she admits.

"Oh, by the way," he points to the counter, in the kitchen, "Those came for you, while you were out."

He helps her off the couch, to her feet. She glances at the vase full of flowers.

"Who are they from?"

"Guess."

"I do not feel like guessing."

"Please?"

"Just tell me. I want to go take a shower."

"Go take a shower, and then when you're in a better mood, you can guess."

"Just tell me!"

"Eli sent them."

"Eli?"

"Yes, you know, Eli David? Director of Mossad. Father of Ziva David. Your father. He sent you flowers, there is a card too."

"What did it say?"

"I didn't read it."

"You delivered my baby, but you draw the line at reading my mail? Since when?"

"Since I delivered your baby. My desire to invade your privacy has greatly decreased," he admits.


	36. Company

Tony makes his way to the door, with a baby in his arms. He looks through the peephole.

"Who is it?" Ziva questions.

"You have company."

"Obviously, who is it?"

"Your father."

"My what?" she raises an eyebrow, as she sits at her kitchen table, making out bills.

"Your father," he repeats.

"I sincerely hope, that you mean my priest," she retorts, looking up, from her calculator.

"You're Jewish," he comments.

"I know that."

"It's Eli," Tony clarifies.

"Obviously."

"Would you like me to answer it?"

"He can probably hear us talking," she points out.

"Is that a yes, or a no."

"Why can't he ever listen to me? I asked him to give me some time."

"It's been a week and a half," Tony points out.

"I would have called him."

"He probably knows that we're in here."

"I'm sure that he's not going to go away, until you answer it."

"Would you like me to answer it?"

"No."

"Ok."

"But, you should."

"Ok," Tony agrees, reaching for the lock. He unlocks the door, and pulls it open. Tony stares at Eli. Eli smiles, holding out a gift bag.

"Come in," Tony motions.

Eli follows him in. Tony closes the door behind him. Eli makes a beeline for Ziva. He places the gift on the chair, next to the table. He smiles at her.

"You look exhausted," he points out.

"Nice to see you too," she greets.

"How are you doing?"

"I have a new baby, how do you think that I am doing?" she responds.

"You look tired," Eli observes.

"Exhausted."

"He keeps you up, all night?" Eli watches as Tony pats the baby.

"No," Tony answers, for her, "The kid only wakes up once during the night. He's very thoughtful, he barely cries. She's just a mama bear, and she stays up, half the night, worrying about him. She's afraid that he'll stop breathing."

"Ziva, you shouldn't worry so much," Eli warns her.

"Easier said than done," she replies.

"You have good help?" Eli inquires.

"Tony helps."

"Tony? There is hardly enough room for you in this apartment," Eli comments.

"It's a little cramped."

"You should look for a bigger place. How many bedrooms?"

"Just one," Ziva admits.

"That simply will not do."

"I am trying to find another apartment, but right now my focus is on the baby."

"So do you live here?" Eli probes, Tony.

He shakes his head, answering too quickly, "No."

Ziva shoots him a look. Eli furrows his brow, "I thought that you were the father."

"I am. It's complicated, as are most things, with your daughter."

"Yes, I suppose that is true," Eli admits.

Eli studies the baby, in Tony's arms.

"Would you like to hold him?" Tony offers.

"It has been many years since I've held a baby," Eli reveals.

Tony points to the couch. "Have a seat," he instructs, "if I can figure it out, anyone can."

Eli makes his way to the couch. He takes a seat. Tony carefully places the sleeping baby, into Eli's arms.

"Don't expect much out of him. He's a simple man, eat, sleep, and poop. He's very good at those three things, but he doesn't like to do much else," Tony rambles.

"Shalom, little one," Eli greets, staring at the sleeping baby.

"Tony, did you go get diapers, earlier?" Ziva interrupts.

"Yes dear, they're in the bedroom," he smiles.

Upon hearing Ziva's voice Ethan's eyes flutter open.

"Hello," Eli smiles, "you are a handsome guy."

"He'll wake up for her, but I think that it's only because she's the food supply," Tony reveals.

"So are you both, here, with him, all day?"

"No," Tony shakes his head, "I went back to work earlier this week. I just got off early today, because it was a very slow day. I'll probably get a call in a few hours, about a murder I have to investigate."

Eli looks over at Ziva, "So you stay home with him, all day? By yourself?"

Ziva furrows her brow, "Yes. Is that so hard to believe?"

"You don't have a nanny?" Eli questions.

"A nanny? Why would I have a nanny? I get six weeks of maternity leave."

"You are so dedicated to your job. Aren't you ready to get back?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"Surprisingly, she has found something that she likes to hold, better than a gun," Tony teases.

Ziva vacates her seat, at the kitchen table. She takes a seat, on the couch, on the opposite end, as her father. She watches closely, as he holds the baby.

"Open the gift," Eli insists.

Tony gets it off the table. He hands it to Ziva. Ziva pulls the tissue paper out of the bag, and sets it on the coffee table. When she reaches in the bag, she expects to find baby's first gun, or a onesie, with Mossad stamped across it. Instead, she reaches into the bag, and finds an embroidered blue blanket, with the name Ethan on it. She stares at Eli, in confusion.

"What? I am not allowed to get my own grandson a gift?"

"You bought this?" she answers, in disbelief.

"Yes. Is that so hard to believe."

"You picked this out?" she replies.

"Yes. I had it made for him, on my own. I didn't have anyone else pick it out. Are you impressed?"

"I do not know," she admits.

"I know that I am not the most thoughtful human being that ever walked the Earth, but I am a human. I know that I blew my chance to be a good father, but I would like a chance to be a good grandfather."

"I see," Ziva responds.

"How often am I going to get to see him?"

"How often would you like to see him?" Ziva queries.

"I live in Israel," he reminds her.

"Ok?"

"Once a month, if that would be ok. I think that is plausible."

"If you are serious about it, I think that can be arranged," Ziva agrees, "but you need to be supervised."

"Absolutely, I do not change diapers," he jokes.


End file.
